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FRENCH'S ACTING EDITION l! 
^ Number 2460 ' 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY 

A Play in three Acts 



BY 
HERBERT SWEARS 

Copyright 1916 by Samuel French, Ltd. 



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THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY 



SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF "THE 
UNKNOWN QUANTITY" 

" The Brighton West Pier Theatre has again been the scene 
of the first production of a highly successful play. The Un- 
knoivn Quantity made its debut yesterday afternoon to an 
audience which left no doubt at the fall of the curtain as to 
whether or not the author, Mr. Herbert Swears, had managed 
to enter into their good graces. The curtain had to be repeatedly 
raised in answer to a well -deserved storm of applause. 

" The Unknown Quantity embraces many interesting and 
arresting points. At times there, is an element of humour, 
succeeded perhaps by a sudden dramatic turn. The plot 13 
geniunely original, and the action well sustained throughout.'" — 
Sussex Daily News. 

" This week the West Pier has served as the cradle for another 

dramatic babe in The Unknown Quantity by Herbert Swears, 

ho we fancy is the authoraplay made familiar by the Kendals^ 

"With an 'Unknown Quantity' it is unsafe to make any 

predictions, but one found in the play certain qualities that 

make as a rule for popular success." — Brighton Herald. 

" The Unknown Quantity made its debut to an audience 
which at the fall of the curtain left no doubt as to its success." — 

Era. 



THE UNKNOWN 
QUANTITY 

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS 



By 
HERBERT SWEARS 

Author of "The Whirlpool," "A Tight Corner," " The H(^use of 
Clay" "Hero andHeroine," "TheNonsensor," "Home Sweet 
Home, with Variations," "Twihght," "Wayfarers," 
"The Mere Man," "Such is Fame," " Two on a 
'Bus," "Love and Dentistry," "Semi-de- 
tached," "Pansy," "Too Many Cooks," 
" Lady Interviewer," "Day Dreams," 
"Dog Days," ".Granny's 
Juliet," etc. 

WITH MISS ESTELLE BURNEY— 
"The One Thing Needful," " The Odd Number," etc. 



GOPYRIGHT, I916, BY SAMUEL FRENCH, LXD. 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH; Ltd 

26 Southampton Street 

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The fee for each and every representation of this play by 
Amateurs is Three Guineas payable in advance to — 

Messrs. Samuel French, Ltd., 

26 Southamptan Street, 

Strand, London, 

or their authorized representatives. 

No performance may be given unless a written permission 
has first been obtained. 

All the costumes, wigs, and properties used in the per- 
formance of plays contained in French's list may be hired or 
purchased reasonably from Messrs. Charles H. Fox, Ltd., 
27 Wellington Street, Strand, London. 



l^^f^sferrBd frerr> 



CoDyr/ 



APR -5 1916 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY 



" Tout savoir c'est tout pardonner.'^ 

First produced at the West Pier Theatre, Brighton, on Monday 
December 6, 1915. 

CHARACTERS. 

Geoffrey Ffolliot Mr. Edward Cooper 

Haevey Jessop, J.P Mr. E. W. Thomas 

Laurence Deeming . •. Mr. F. W. Knott 

Kate Harrorow Miss Ethel Griffles 

Joyce Ffolliot Miss Violet Harley 

Thompson, Mrs. Ffolliot's Maid . .% Miss Agnes KnigM 

The Scene is laid in the Hall Sitting-room of Chipchase, the 

Ffolliofs cottage, near Norchester. 

Act I. 

A June Evening. 

ACT II. 

An Hour later. 

ACT III 

The Next Morning. 

Note. — There should be the shortest possible interval between the 
Acts. 



cV^^ 




THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY 



ACT I 

Scene. — The Hall sitting-room at Ckipchase, the Ffolliot^s 
cottage near Norchester. 

The room is an irregular wainscoted apartment, with an abund- 
ance of comfortable chairs and lounges. It is used as the 
chief living room. On the floor are several tiger skin rugs. 
On the black oak walls hang a sheaf of assegais, a buffalo's 
head, and many coloured sporting prints in ebony frames. 
The room is lighted by a standard oil lamp, which stands 
R.c. at back, and by several groups of sconces containing 
wax candles, attached to the oak panels. There are three 
means of ingress. The Right Upper Entrance communicates 
with a small outer hall and cloak room, and the main entrance. 
The Door c. at back gives on to a passage which runs to right 
and left, and gives access to the rest of the divelling. French 
windows draped, ivith curtains (l.u.e.) open into a pretty 
old world garden. The right wall curves outwards and is 
pierced by three mullioned windows with leaded panes. 
A handsome fireplace with oaken mantelshelf is l., and in 
front of it a high leather-topped fender. On the mantel are 
a chiming clock and several brass ornaments. An oval 
table is c, a chair on either side of it. A sofa tvith cushions 
is R. Below the entrance r. is a small oak table, on ivMch 
are usually placed the after-dinner refreshments. A book- 
case containing sets of the b^st authors in uniform bindings 
stands in a recess r.c. at back. A large loriting table is 
placed in an angle of the wall down l., next footlights. Above 
it is a library chair, and by the side of it a ivaste-paper basket. 
An armchair is above fireplace l,, a cabinet l.c. at back. 
A small table, or ivork-basket on legs, stands below French 
window L.U.E. 

{At rise of curtain, Mrs^JIarborow is discovered seated l. of 
c. table playing paKence. She is a handsome and attractive 
woman of about /thirty -five,\ very well but simply dressed. 




8 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Joyce Ffolliot is twenty, but looks much younger. She 
is petite and very pretty, ivith the large wondering eyes of 
a child. She wears a charming evening frock, ivith short 
skirt. Joyce is half reclining on the sofa r., her head buried 
in the cushions, listlessly glancing at a novel of Seton Merri- 
man^s. After a momenfs pause, the door centre opens, 
and Thompson, a preternaturally solemn maid, enters with 
a tray, on which is a tantalus of which the brandy decanter 
is brimful ; the whisky decanter only half full, together with 
a syphon and several tumblers. This she deposits on small 
table R. Joyce now turns her head lazily on the cushions 
and speaks.) 

Joyce. Thompson ! 
Thompson. Yes, m'm. 
Joyce. Did the telegram go ? 
' " TnoilfpsoN. Yes, m'm. 

^ .,JfOYCE. Will you please tell Jackson that the master 
is going to London to-night by the mail train, and that he's 
to have the car ready in good time. 
Thompson. Very good, m'm, 

{Exit Thompson c.) 

(Joyce resumes her book. Mrs. Harborow continue her 
game.) 

Mrs. Harborow. So Geoffrey's going to town to-night ? 

Joyce. Yes. 

Mrs. Haeeorow. Something urgent ? 

Joyce. Oh ! seme old business ! Aunt Kate, where is 
Coplfcall Avenue ? 

Mrs. Harborow. In the City somewhere, I believe. 

Joyce. The telegram was addressed there — Denton 
Scrs & Ticubridge, 92, Copthall Avenue. 

Mrs. HiiEEOEOW. i&miles) Oh! yes, I — I dare say 
the j'le acckbix)kers. 

JcYcr. Wfcat luck you were able to come to us, Aunt 
Kate. I should have been left all alone. 

Mes. Haeeoeow. You know how glad I am to come. 
I always lock on Chipchase as a second home. A much 
more real home than any I've possessed. I — a wanderer 
in the desert ! 

Joyce. You must slay a long, long time, now you are 
here. 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 9 

Mrs. Harborow. {laughing) I'll stay till I get my march- 
ing orders. Any excitements ? 

Joyce. Excitements! Good heavens, is it likely ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Any new neighbours ? 

Joyce, There's Laurie. 

Mrs. Harborow. Who's Laurie ? 

Joyce. He's taken Oaklands — just across the fields. 

Mrs. Harborow. What's his Christian nam.e ? 

Joyce. That is. 

Mrs. Harborow. Oh ! 

Joyce. He's coming round presently — he couldn't get 
here to dinner. 

Mrs. Harborow. {smiling) Perha'ps you'd better tell 
me his surname. He might think me over- bold. 

Joyce. Deeming — Laurence Deeming ! He's a dear 
— he and I have great fun. 

Mrs. Harborow. {playing patience thoughtfully) I see. 

Joyce, {sits up) What a time those two are over their 
coffee ! 

Mrs. Harborow. I expect they're putting the world to 
rights ! It's usually accomplished after dinner. 

Joyce. Geoffrey hardly opens his lips when we are alone ! 

Mrs. Harborow. I wish I could say the same of Harvey 
Jessop. 

Joyce, {rises and crosses to above chair r. of table, shows 
book) I've just been reading an old thing of Seton Merri- 
man's. He's very great on the strong silent man. 

Mrs. Harborow. I know he is ! 

Joyce. They're supposed to have a fatal fascination for us. 

Mrs. Harborow. Well, haven't they ? 

Joyce. I suppose they have — otherwise I shouldn't 
have married Geoffrey. 

Mrs. Harborow. The mighty hunter. 

Joyce. I think it's a great m^istake for strong silent men 
to many. 

Mrs. Harborow. My dear Joyce, you've married a cele- 
brity ; be thankful he's a silent one. Be grateful that snap- 
shots of him don't bang at you from all directions. 

Joyce. Yes, but that doesn't prevent my wanting to 
stick pins into him. 

Mrs. Harborow. Why ? 

Joyce. Oh ! because I'm a beastly little cat ! {crosses 
r. and throws book on sofa) 

Mrs. Harborow. Then you mean claws, dear! 



10 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY 

Joyce, {turns) He's so jriglitfully dignified it freezes 
me. Then he makes me feel a fool — that's not very pleasant. 
{sits L. of table) 

Mrs. Hareorow. It's certainly tactless ! 

Joyce. He'll sit for hours in the same room with me, 
without saying a word, till I could shriek ! Then I mak6 
some footling remark — I have to — and he'll look at me with 
his great big eyes, as much as to say " Good Lord." 

Mrs. Harborow. {laughs) You absurd child ! 

Joyce. Sometimes I co8(,x him up to town and take him 
to the play — something good you know — Daly's or the Gaiety, 
and he'll simply glower the whole evening, looking at his 
watch as if he were in church ! 

Mr . Harborow. Dear Geoffrey is certainly not a gad- 
about. 

Joyce, {throiving her hands up) Gadabout ! {crosses 
down R.) 

Mrs. Harborow. And he's rather stiff and starchy, but 
he's a very good fellow, Joyce. 

Joyce, {turns) I'm not saying he isn't. 

Mrs. Harborow. And he's very much in love with you. 

Joyce. I don't believe he cares a bit ! {crosses up r.) 

Mrs. Harborow. Of course he does ! 

Joyce, {above table q.) Then why doesn't he make 
love to me ? Throw his arms round me ? and make me 
believe he loves me ? 

Mrs. Harborow. He's reserved. 

Joyce. Then he should have married the Albert Memorial 
{crosses to fireplace r.)— not a fluffy person like me ! I know 
I look a kid, Aunt Kate ; but am I really such an out-and- 
out fool ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {quietly) No, dear, and since you're 



very pretty, it wouldn t matter if you Avere ! 

Joyce, {at fireplace) Oh ! and there's another thing. 

Mrs. Harborow. Good gracious ! 

Joyce. He either reads, or gees to sleep after dinner 
— night after night — in that ch^ir over there ! It's ghastly ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Ah ! {thoughtfully) It's a pity men 
can't realize what frights they loolv with their mouths open. 

Joyce. It's Just the same about clothes. He never 
notices what I've got on. 

Mrs. Harborow. Does any man ? 

Joyce. If he'd only be a little human ! But he's so cold 
and distant and squashing ! 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 11 

Mrs. Harborow. Just because Geoff rej^ is a mighty 
hunter you mustn't expect the poor dear to be perpetually 
slaying ipiaginary lions and singing " Rule Britannia ! " 

Joyce. Oh, I don't know why I've bored you with all 
this rigmarole, only it's a relief to let off steam sometimes. 
{crosses heloiv table to r.) 

Mrs. Harborow. My dear child, always tell me any- 
thing that's worrying you. . . . {earnestly) You always 
will, won't you ? 

Joyce. Of course I will, auntie, {sits r. of table) 

Mrs. Harborow. You know, Joyce, there^is this about 
people. In every man or woman, for good or ill, there is 
always the -Unknown Quantitj^ -It defeats logic and defies 
explanation. Call it if j'ou like the extra strawbeiry that 
Nature throws into the scale. 

Joyce, {smiling) Does this mean that Geoffrey's going 
to stand on his head ? 

Mrs. Harborom''. {laughs) I shouldn't wonder ! It's 
a topsy-turvy world ! 

Joyce, {rises and crosses a little down r.) Hurrah ! 
There's something left to hope for. 

{Enter Thompson c, carrying " Gertie,''^ a Yorkshire Toy 
terrier.) 

Thompson, {very grave) Please, m'm, Gertie's h'et the 
cat's dinner. 

Joyce. Oh, Gertie ! Give her to me, Thompson, {takes 
dog) You wicked, wicked child ! 

Thompson. She'd 'ad a nice bit o' chicken, m'm. 

Joyce, {shocked) There ! you greedy pig, Gertie ! 
What had cat for his dinner ? {sits sofa) 

Thompson, {very grave) 'Addock, m'm. 

Joyce. Oh, Gertie ! Thompson, tell Cook I'm sorry 
Gertie's been such a naughty girl ! and bring me Gertie's 
toilet-set, please. 

Thompson, {very serious) Yes, m'm. 

{Exit Thompson.) 

Joyce, {holding Gertie u^) Auntie, look at her whiskers ! 
Aren't they sweet ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Exquisite! {gathers up her 'patience 
cards) 

Joyce. ' We motored into Norchester to-day to choose her 
birthday present — isn't her taste perfect ? Look ! a new 



12 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

collar, and a bow to match her whiskers, [pressing dog to 

her heart) She's such a comfort to her mother, aren't you, 

my angel ? 

{Re-enter Thompson c. ivith a tray on ivhich are small tooth- 
brush, a hair-brush and comb, a scent spray, a small cloth, 
and 7nanicure requisites.) 



Joyce. Thank you, Thompson. I hope cat's not very 
angry with Gertie. 

Thompson, {very grave) He's gone out in a 'uff, m'm ! 
{places cloth over her mistress' knee) 

Joyce. Oh ! Gertie, you've driven him out to his Club. 
{laughs) Dreadful ! Her tooth-brush please, Thompson. 

Thompson. Yes, m'm. {hands tooth-brush) 

Joyce. Now, Gertums, open your mouth, dear. That's 
right ! 

Mrs. Harborow. She looks like an advertisement for 
somebody's tooth-paste, {laughs, rises and places pack of 
patience cards in a drawer of cabinet 1..C. at back) 

Joyce. Oh ! don't laugh at her, auntie — she hates it ! 
Now, then, I must manicure her nails. 

'■■'' (Thompson hands manicure utensils.) 

People don't realize that dogs understand everything that's 
said ! Gertie, will you sit si ill ? Mother will be very cross 
in a minute. As if I could be cross with my darling treasure. 
Now the brush, please, Thompson. 

-(Thompson hands it.) 

Mrs. Harborow. Does Gertie go through this perform- 
ance every night ? 

Joyce. Certainly ! Don't you ? . 

Mrs. Harborow. {laughing good-naturedly) I decline 
to reveal the secrets of my toilet, {crosses to fireplace) 

Joyce. A little spray, please, Thompson. 

(Thompson sprays with deep solemnity.) 
That's right. You can leave her with me now, Thompson. 

Thompson. Yes, m'm. {she places spray, together with 
the other aricles on tray arid exits c.) 

Joyce, {stands Gertie on her hind legs on table c.) Doesn't 
she look a dream ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {at fireplace) A picture ! 

Joyce, {making Gertie bent f 07 ward) Curtsey to the 
pretty lady, Gertie. 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. U 

{Enter Harvey Jessop, a pleasant cheery person abont fifti/, 
and Geoffrey Ffolliot, a tall handsome man of forty. 
He is a little stiff and unbending in his manner, and quite 
destitute of any sense of humour, but ivithal a very chivalrous 
and courtly gentleman.) 

Jessop. {pointing to the table c.) The Three Graces ! 
Joyce. What on earth have you two been talking about ? 
Jessop. A little magisterial business. 

(Ffolliot carries a cigar box that he has brought from dining- 
room. This he places on small table r. He then raises 
the whisky decanter to the light to see that there is a sufficient 
quantity.) 

Joyce, {crying out) I know ! 

Jessop. {above table c.) Well, omniscient lady. 

Joyce. You've been teaching Geoffrey to tango ! 

Ffolliot. {replacing decanter) Joyce, how can you 
talk such nonsense ! 

Joyce, {to Gertie) Do you hear, Gertie ? Mother's 
a fool ! Let's crawl under the table ! {prepares to do so) 

(Ffolliot, uuth a shrug of the shoulders, crosses to French 
luindows l.u.e. and looks out.) 

Now father's cross, because we've scored off him ! 

Jessop. And what have you two been discussing during 
our lamented absence ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Harvey, you're a conceited old thing, 
{sits l. of table), 

Jessop. Bargains at Selfridge's ? 

Mrs. Haborow. Isn't that like a man ! 
• Jessop. What then ? 

Joyce, [right of table) We've been talking on very deep 
subjects, haven't we, Gertie ? 

Jessop, Am — I— er — old enough to hear ? 

Joyce. Shall we tell him. Auntie ? 

Mrs. Haborow. If you like. 

Joyce, {nodding her head at him) The Unknown Quan- 
tity ! 

Jessop. The Unknown Quantity ! 

Ffolliot. {turning from window and coming down to fire- 
place) What's that ? 

Joyce, In my case — intelligence, dear, {sits on sofa 
flaying with Gertie) 



14 THE vUNKNOYv^N QUANTITY. 

Jessop. Let's hear ! {sits n. of fable) 

Mrs. Harborow. It's the secret that we never tell. 
Sometimes it's revealed in a fash. More often, we ourselves 
never guess it. That maj^ be best. 

Jessop. Good heavens, Kate, am I an incipient burglar ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Have you ever been hungry? 

Jessop. {in mock dismay) Ffolliot, I believe she's a 
socialist. 

Mrs. Haborow. I'm afraid I think sometimes, and have 
ideas — I'm sorry. 

Ffolliot. '{quietly) I think Kate's right. 

Jessop. Great Scott ! 

Ffolliot. {thoughtfully) I think, too, that the hidden 
instinct that she speaks of can be so starved that it may die 1 
{crosses down to writing table and fills pipe from jar) 
{Slight pause.) 

Joyce, {to Gertie) Gertie, dear, they're getting beyond 
us. It's time you went to bed. 

Jessop. {rises and turns to Joyce, speaking mock seri- 
ously) Has Gertie the soul of a mastiff ? 

Joyce. Growl at him, Gertie ! and show him. Bow- 
wow-wow ! {rises and moves c.) Say, good-night to Auntie 
like a good child. Isn't she lovely ? And now to Father. 
{crosses l). Put your whiskers straight', dear. Father hates 
you to be untidy. Father thinks we're awfully silly, and 
as far as I am concerned he is so right, {gets up to door c.) 
Gertie says " good-night " to everybody, {turns at entrance 
c.) Gertie is much cleverer than any of you. She's dis- 
covered the Unknown Quantity. 

Jessop. {at head of sofa) What is it ? 

Joyce. The cat's dinner. 

U {Exit c.) 

{There is a general laugh.) 

Ffolliot. I've got to go up to town to-night, Kate. 
I expect Joyce told 3^ou ? 

Mrs. Haborow. Yes. Isn't it time you changed your 
things ? 

Ffolliot. I suppose it is. {glances at clock) I shall be 
back scmetime to-morrow. I'm sorry to leave you, but I 
have £cm.e urgent business. 

Jessop. Won't it keep till the morning ? {jiioves up a 
Utile L.c.) 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 15 

FroLLiOT. No ! I have to be in the City at ten. {moves 
up c.) There's no need for you to hurry away, Jessop. I 
dare say you and Kate will be glad of a quiet chat. Whisky 
and cigars are on the table — there, please help yourself. 

{Exit c.) 

Jessop. Thanks, I will, {crosses to table r.) Ah ! tny 
dear Kate, if one could only discover whisky in Unknown 
Quantities, {mixes himself a drink) 

Mrs. Harborow. Harvey, you're hopeless ! {rises and 
moves to fireplace) You can't be serious for two seconds. 

Jessop. I'm only serious about one thing, Kate. 

Mrs. Harborow. {turns) What's that ? 

Jessop. {comes down with glass in hand) You ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Oh, Harvey ! 

Jessop. Does that surprise you ? 

Mrs. Harborow. It 

Jessop. Kate, are you aware that I've known you for 
seventeen years ? 

Mrs. Harborow {in m^ck dismay) Spare me, Harvey. 

Jessop. {sits on left corner of centre table) I first met you 
two years before your marriage to Jasper Latrobe — after 
that came a gap of another two years, when Kfe was a blank 
to me ; then came the foundering of the City of Quebec — 
Latrobe on board— that brings us to 1903. Allowing a decent 
interval to elapse I made my first proposal in the summer 
of 1904, and I've been hard at it ever since. 

Mrs. Harborow\ {smiling) How absurd you are, 
Harvey, {mores down l.) 

Jessop. Some day you'll say " yes." Oh, yes you will ! 
You'll get tired of your "noes" and give your "ayes" a 
chance. As a magistrate if I'd said that in Court they'd 
have roarerZ— send 'em to prison if they didn't ! I think 
I've jjroposed to you, Kate^ in ever^^ capital of Europe. 

Mrs. Harborow. Harvey, please, {crosses and sits on 
sofa) 

Jessop. It's become second nature ! 
Mrs. Harborow. Has it ever occurred to you, that I 
might have wanted to sa}^ " yes." 

Jessop. {ji^iis down glass on c. table) Do you mean it, 
Kate ? 
Mrs. Harborow. Yes, I mean it. 
Jessop. {crosses to her) Then say it now. 
Mrs. Harborow. {sadly) It's impossible ! 



16 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Jessop. {taking out note-book) Just a moment ! {moves 
L. and turns over leaves) No — no — no — I thought not. 
Extraordinary thing ! First time you've refused me in this 
house. I'll make a' note of it. {writes) " 'No,' at Chip- 
chase, June 20. She was wearing pale grey and looked 
adorable. Buck up — better luck next time." There, that^s 
over ! {replaces pocket-book ; mock heroically) And then 
with a dreamy look in his eyes, the broken-hearted man 
seized a goblet, and drained the contents, {finishes his 
whisky and soda) 

Mrs. Harborow. Harvey, could you leave off talking 
nonsense for five minutes, if I asked you as a great favour ? 

Jessop. Of course, Kate. 

Mrs. Harborow. Honestly ? 

Jessop. I'll be as solemn and as disagreeable as a taxi- 
driver. 

Mrs. Harborow. {rises and m^ves to r. of c. table) I 
want to try and tell you something. It will be difficult — I 
want you to help me. 

Jessop. {seriously) Anything that concerns you, Kate, 
concerns me. 

Mrs. Harborow. I've thought about it a good deal, and 
Ive been greatly troubled. I know your great kind heart , 
and your generous nature — 

(Jessop makes a motion of the hand.) 

Oh, yes ! and knowing you so well and valuing your affection 
so dearly I think there is nothing I would have liked so well 
as to become your wife. 

Jessop. {softly) Kate ! 

Mrs. Harborow. But there was, and is, a reason why 
that could not be. I think it only fair that you should 
know it. {sits r. of table) 

Jessop. {softly) If you wish it, Kate — not unless, {sits 
L. of table) 

Mrs. Harborow. I must ask you to go back a good many 
years. Fifteen to be exact, to the autumn of 1901. 

Jessop. The year of your marriage to Jasper Latrobe. 

Mrs. Harborow. I wasn't very old then — a few months 
over nineteen. I was rather a headstrong girl, and I was in 
love. 

Jessop. I remember. 

Mrs. Harborow. My father and mother were both dead 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 17 

and my guardian, wjio had brought me up, flatly refused. 
to allow an engagement. 
Jessop. So far I know. 

Mrs. Harborow. Jasper at that tnne must have been 
about twenty-five, very attractive with charming manners. 
I was wildly in love with him— he seemed very fond of me. 
One day we decided to cut the Gordian knot and made a 
bolt of it. We arrived in Paris on a very murky November 
morning. I can see the raindrops dripping from the yellow 
hat of the cocher, as if it were yesterday ! I was to- stay 
at the Continental, he at a smaU hotel in the Rue de Rivoh, 
until the marriage formalities could be arranged. Thus 
much you know already. What is to come, you do not 
know, {she pauses a moment and passes her handkerchief 
across her lips) 

Jessop. Go on, Kate. 

Mrs Harborow. We Imiched together that day at the 
Cafe Americain. After lunch we stroUed back towards the 
hotel In the Place Vendome he stopped suddenly. He 
said,* "Kate, I can't keep this up any longer. It's killing 
me ' I can't marrv you. I have a wife already.' I don t 
quite k^ow what "l did. I think I laughed— he looked so 
funny as he told me. I certainly didn't reproach hnn, that 
would have been a mere futility. Besides I loved him. 
We walked on and on. Round to the right, across the Place 
de la Concorde, ultimately to the Bois.de Boulogne. My 
position was this. I could do one of two thmgs. > could 
go back to my guardian in disgrace and unmarried, the 
target for every cat and spitfire in the neighbourhood or i 
could stay on with the man whom I passionately loved. 
And there ii^ an alley way, beneath the dripping branches, 
I made my choice. I "decided to stay, {she again pauses 
for a second, and then proceeds) The year that followed 
was ideally, gloriously happy. We were hke two children 
playing in the sunshine. Each day I think I loved him 
more. Paris seemed like a fairy city of enchanted grovels ! 
Every hour brought some added joy, some fresh delight. 
Paris and youth and love ! Looking back across the years 
I wonder even now if those swift months were not worth 
while, even at the heavy price I paid for them ! {pause) 
One day I learnt that Jasper had left me. 

Jessop. Left you ? ^ a 

Mrs. Harborow. With a scribbled line of regret, and a 
hundred franc note he'd gone ! The blow was too heavy to 



18 THE UNKNOWN. QUANTITY. 

feel at once ; when I realized it, I had a long illness. I don't 
want to dwell on that time. Even now it makes me shudder. 
As soon as I was better I gave out that I had divorced my 
husband, and resumed my maiden name. I'm afraid I was 
proud and hated sympathy. So I fought through alone. 

Jessop. Last scene of all came the Avreck of the City of 
Quebec, and the end of Jasper Latrobe. 

Mrs. Harborow. {nods) Now out of this story I want 
certain facts to emerge. I took my fate in my hands and 
I suffered terribly. But what I did — I did deliberately — of 
my own free will — and under like circumstances, would do 
again. 

Jessop. [gently) Do you still care for him, Kate ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {tJioughtfully) He's dead, I only 
think of what was best in him. 
(Jessop, without a word, rises and crosses to fireplace, his hack 

towards Mrs. Harborow) 
That's all, I think. I hope you'll try and think kindly of 
me, Harvey, {pause) Haven't you a word ? Not one ? 

Jessop. {with emotion) If you don't mind, Kate — I 
think— I'll blow my nose ! {he doss so) I— I feel a bit 
choky — it — it — was that lonely year ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {wistfully, rising and moving 'a little 
down R.) I haven't quite lost your good will ? 

Jessop. ^ {earnestly, moving to her) Kate, I only know that 
if you'll be my wife — you'll make me very proud. 

Mrs. Harborow. {ivith emotion) Harvey, you dear, 
generous ^ 

Jessop. {interrupting hastily) Old ass ! That's it ! 
Now, will you have an old ass for an husbaiid ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {half laughing, half cnjin^) If he— if 
he — will have me. {she rests her head on his shoulder) 

Jessop. {ivith emotion) Oh, Kate, after all these years ! 
{pause— sudden change of tone) Hurray ! Kate, have you 
ever seen me dance ? Hah ! you wait ! You wait ! How s 
this, eh ? How's this for forty-nine and a bit ? Forty-nine 
be hanged — I'm a boy — a boy ! {dances down to r.) 
{Mrs. Harborow laughs at mantelpiece, while he cuts his little 

caper. In the midst of his efforts, Joyce re-enters c. and 

stands ivatching in amazement.) 

Joyce. Of course, this is the Unknown Quantity ! 

Jessop. {humming the Wedding March) Ever heard 
that before ? 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 19 

. Joyce. What does it all mean ? 

Jessop. {moves up c.) Mean ! It meam that I'm in 
heaven. It means— pom ! pom !— crash of cymbals, please ! 
— it means — pom ! pom ! — comets, do your worst ! — it 
means that I'm going to be married ! — and to whom do 
you think, Joyce ? 

Joyce, {looking at Mrs. Harborow's happy laughing 
face) Why, Auntie, how lovely ! {rushes and embraces 
jMrs. Harborow) 

Jessop. Clever girl ! Guessed it at once. Astute— 
that's what she is ! 

Joyce. And now I'm gouig to give you one, you great 
overgrown schoolboy ! {she throws hor arms round Jessop 
and kisses him) 

Jessop. Kate, don't be jealous— it's my last fling ! 

Joyce. It is exciting ! I love weddings ! {moves hack 
to Mrs. Harborow) What are you gomg to. wear. Auntie ? 

Mrs. HiiRBDROW. My dear child, I haven't thought ! 

Joyce. Do let me choose your frock ! Do, there's a dear ! 

Mrs. Harborow. All right, dear ! 

Joyce. Splendid ! And Gertie shall have a large bow to 
match. 

Jessop.' Presented by the bride and bridegroom, eh, 
Kate ? 

Joyce. {moves c.) Oh ! I am so happy ! — so awfully 
pappy ! {suddenly flings herself on to the sofa and hursts into a 
passion of tears) 

Mrs. Harborow. {crossing to sofa) My dear child, 
what is the matter ? 

Jessop. She's onty joking ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Oh ! no, she's not. {tenderhj) What 
is it, dear ? 

Joyce, {liftijig a little woehegone face and speaking tea r- 
fidly) It must be so nice — to — to be loved. 

Mrs. Harborow. {soothingly) But we all love you, dear. 

Jessop. And as for Gertie, she simply v/orships you. 

Joyce, {cheering up) I am silly ! And I've made my 
nose red. I must powder it. 

Jessop. Yes. {crosses doivn l. of writing table) You 11 
feel better when you've powdered your nose. 

Joyce. Rather ! {rises and moves to him) And a word 
in your ear. {ivhispers) Take care you don't get any on 
your coat. 

{They laugh. Joyce moves up c.) 



20 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Mrs. Harborow. What are you laughing at ? 

Jessop. a very deep and pungent remark, Kate, {strolls 
to ivindow) A masterpiece of observation, {at ivindow) 
What a lovely night ! {pause) I said what a lovely night ! 

Joyce. We heard you. {gets Her avn^^s lace scarf) 

Jessop. Kate, I don't think I told you. I'm a great 
horticulturist. I want you to see the — er — the — er — 
Coreopsis. 

Mrs. Harborow. Is it an animal ? 

Joyce, {in a whisper) Do be kind to the old dear ! 
{places scarf round her aunt) 

Jessop. I think for sheer beauty the Coreopsis Cardinalis 
Grandiflora is bad to beat. I do really ! 

Joyce. Auntie, go for heavens sake — he'll burst ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {laughing and crossing up c) Very 
Well, you shall show me. What's it called ? 

Jessop. Coreopsis ! Never forget it. When in doubt 
say — Coreopsis. 

Mrs. Harborow. I'll remember ! I won't go on the 
lawn, mind. 

Jessop. Certainly not. We'll keep to the straight and 
narrow path. 

{Exeunt Mrs. Harborow and Jessop l.u.e.) 

Joyce, {at loindow) The dears ! {suddenly moves away 
laughing) He kissed her ! 

{Electric bell rings at main entrance.) 

Bother ! I haven't powdered my nose, {draws chair in front 
of glass and stands on it, applying a poivder puff) 

(Thompson enters c. and exit r.u.e.) 

{After a moment re-enter Thompson.) 

Thompson. Mr. Deeming, m'm. 

{Enter Laurence Deeming, r.u.e. He is a good-looking 
man of forty. His hair is turning grey at the temples. He 
is clean shaven and a trifle pale. He wears a light dust 
coat over his evening dress, and carries u soft felt hat.) 

Joyce. That you ? 

{Exit Thompson c. at hack.) 

Deeming, {moves c.) Yes, afraid I'm awfully late. 
Joyce. You are — it's disgraceful ! 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 21 

Deeming. I'm only just back from London. 

Joyce. Well, go and hang your coat up and then come 
and talk. I've heaps to say. 

{Exit Deeming for a minute r.u.e,, leaving the door ajar.) 
I say, Laurie, what do you think ? {descends and replaces 
chair) 

Deeming, {outside) Well ? 

Joyce. Geoffrey's going up to town to-night. I shall 
be a free woman — free to do whatever silly thing I like — 
free as the birds — till to-morrow, {sits on table c.) 
(Deeming re-enters r.u.e. He comes doivn r. of table.) 
When I shall once more be squashed flat. You know it's 
such a breathless thing to be married to a steam roller. 
You put up a little idea — such a poor little idea, hardly 
worth crushing really ! — when bang, crash, comes the iron 
roller and crack goes your poor little nut. 

Deeming. He's going by the night mail I suppose. 

Joyce. Yes. {suddenly) -Aren't you glad ? 

Deeming, {a shade surprised) Glad ? 

Joyce. I could dance with joy. We'll have such a gay 
time. We'll rag and rot and play games and sing and eat 
chocs and pull crackers — I've lots upstairs hidden away 
— we'll do everything he hates, {sudden change) Laurie, 
{gets offltable) what's the matter ? You look so serious. 

Deeming. Do I ? I've had rather a worrying day — 
with a train journey on top of it. {moves a little down r.) 

Joyce. Well, you must cheer up now, and just be you ! 
The jolly- bird-nesting you, who doesn't mind if he tears 
his trousers. The you who's always ready to romp and 
play the fool and run races on the Moor. The you who 
saved Gertie's life when she swallowed a chicken bone ! — 
you ought to have had the D.S.O. for that/ — the you who 
doesn't mind a bit because I'm not so very old, or very wise 
or very clever, the jou — whose eyes are very kind, I think. 

Deeming, {crosses to her) Joyce, shall I tell you your 
greatest charm ? 

Joyce, {nodding) Yes. 

Deeming. You have the soul of a woman and the nature 
of a child. 

Joyce. Oh ! I'm glad — if you're glad ! 

Deeming. And hke a child you only think of me as I am. 
Not as I might have been ; {crosses down l.) not as I might 
become. 

Joyce. Of course ! 



22 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Deeming, {turns and crosses bach c.) I want you always 
to remember me so, Joyce. That your " you " was just a 
careless gipsy that you met in the fields one day, a light- 
hearted wastrel, owing nobody a sigh or a sixpence ! and 
you and he sauntered the lanes together when the sun was 
high, and the may was red on the trees. 

Joyce. Ah ! yes, the sun — I love the sun too — the cold 
■ {she shivers) seems to gather round my heart, (a stej) or two 

Deeming. One day your gipsy friend will throw his 
pack over his shoulder, and with a careless good day he'll 
trudge away into the summer haze. I hope his little friend 
will throw a kind thought after him — just for luck. 

Joyce, {suddenly) Laurie, you're not going away ? 

Deeming. • Yes. 

Joyce, {repeating blankly) You're going away ' 

Deeming. I must. 

Joyce. But who is to play games with me, and watch 
the sliadovvs on the clover ? 

Deeming. Another gipsy will stroll along, when the hay la 
lying, and you'll link your arm in hfs, and forget all about 
the Avorthless scamp who just slipped over the horizon. 

Joyce. I shan't! I shan't forget him! Laurie! {she 
looks up at him with the mute appeal of a child) 

{He hesitates a moment, and then takes her in his arins and kisses 
her passionately on the lips.) 

Deeming. Will you como with me into the summer haze ? 

Joyce. Do you love m.e — really love me, I mean ? I 
want so frightfully to be loved ! — put your arms round me, 
and hold me. I don't know if I love you. I'm afraid — I 
can't. You see I gave it all to GeofCrey ! It was such 
waste — he didn't want it. He only thinks of me as a silly 
kind. 

Deeming. You mite of a thing ! To hold so much that 
is dear to me. 

Joyce. If only Geoffrey — ^- {she has it in her mind to 
say, " // only Geoffrey held me £o.") 

DEEMtNG. Do you love him still ? 

Joyce, I'm afraid so. 

Deeming. Then the gipsy must go alone. 

Joyce, {quickly) No, no. I can't bear to think of your 
going. My life will be so empty I've nobody to love me — 
nobcdv but Gertie ! 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 23 

Deeming. You need never say that — any more ! To- 
morrow, then, the gipsy will trudge away ; unless 

Joyce. Unless ? 

Deeming. You come with him. 

Joyce. Is it one or the other ? 

Deeming. Yes — one or the other. 

Joyce. Must I answer now ? 

Deeming. Yes. 

Joyce. No, I must see you again. We can't say good- 
bye like this. I've such a lot to say ! Listen! After Geof- 
frey goes, we'll have a little fun, then you and Mr. Jessop 
will walk home across the fields ! Auntie will be sure to 
go to bed early to dream of Mr. Jessop — they're just engaged, 
the dears ! — then I'll creep down and lower the lamp. That 
will be a signal and you shall come back and say good-bye. 
Deeming. And your answer ? (holding her to him) 
■Joyce. The moon will be at the full to-night, (looking 
up at him) Perhaps the moon will tell me what to say. 

(He kisses her.) 

Jessop. [his voice is heard in the garden) Finest Cor- 
eopsis in the three kingdoms ! 

(Deeming goes doivn k. to sofa. Joyce gets up c.) 

[Enter Jessop, foUoived a moment later hy Mrs. Harborow. 
Jessop catches sight of Dee^vung as he comes in. He speaks' 
cheerily.) 

Good evening, Deeming ! let rne introduce the lady who 
has done me the honour to promise to be my wife. 

Mrs. Harborow. {enters laughing) Oh ! what a terrific 
speech. Harvey. 

Jessop. {laughs) ]Mrs. Harborow — Mr. Deeming. 

(Mrs. Harborow crosses down l. in greet Deeming.) 

Joyce, {calls) Uncle Harvey ! 

i[jESSOP turns and mores to Joyce. She jjantomimes, by 
first touching her cheek, and then pointing to his sleeve, that 
there is powder on it. She makes a great qmrade of removing 
it ivith her handkerchief. They stand to the left of, and 
rather below the c. entrance. Meanwhile Mrs. HiiRBOROW 
has crossed down smiling happily. When she gets to l.c. 
she stops s%ddenly as though ■'ttirned to stone, staring at 



24 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Deeming? He too has stood white and expectant. With 
an effort he moves towards her.) 

Mrs. Harbqrow. {in a whisper) Jasper Latrobe ! 
Jasper ! 

Deeming, {in a low voice) No, Jasper Latrobe went 
down in the City of Quebec. My name is Laurence Deeming 

{They stand conversing for a moment, in a low tone.) 

{During this scene Thompson has entered c. tvith a travelling 
hag, which she is conveying to the motor car waiting at entrance 
R.u.E. As she passes, Joyce gives her a direction and 
Thompson then exits with bag r.u.e.) 

{Immediately on her departure Ffolliot enters r.u.e., in a 
tweed suit and cap, and stands for a moment talking to Joyce 
and Jessop.) 

Ffolliot. {as he enters) I'm afraid I've been a rather 
long time. But we had a bother with the engine, {nodding 
to exit R.U.E.) 

(Thompson re-enters and exits c.) 

Joyce. Such wonderful news for you. {crosses to Ffol- 
liot) 

Ffolliot. Indeed ? 

Joyce. Aunt Kate and Mr. Jessop are engaged ! 

Jessop. Quite. a knock out, isn't it? 

Ffolliot. {crosses to Jessop) My dear old friend, I'm 
delighted, {shakes hands) My dear Kate, let me offer 3/0U 
my best congratulations, {crosses down to her at fireplace. 
Deeming joins Joyce and Jessop) 

Mrs. Harborow. {faintly) Thanks, thanks very much, 
Geoffrey. 

{At this moment enter Thompson c. with tray, on ivhich is a 
bottle of champagne and five glasses — these she places on 
table c. and exits c.) 

Joyce, (r. of table) Geoffrey, you must drink the 
health of the bride and bridegroom elect. 

{As Ffolliot crosses back from Mrs. Harborow, Deeming, 
who has opened his cigarette case, offers him a cigarette as 
he passes.) 

Ffolliot. {taking cigarette) Thanks, {to his wife) I'm 
afraid I can only §tay a minute, {turn) Jessop, would 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 25 

you mind opening the champagne. I'll got into, my coat 
meanwhile. 

{Crosses and exit r.u.e.) 

Jessop. {takes up bottle ayid gets l, of table. Joyce is 
above table. Deeming strolls doivn to head of sofa) Bol- 
^ger 1900. My favourite year — just as Coreopsis is my 
'avourite flower — from this night onwards ! {struggliTig 
with cork) Is it going to be a stiff 'un ? Will you ? won't 
you ? will you ? won't you ? said the Miller to the Maid. 
Will you ?— she will. Aha ! Victory ! She moves — a 
long pull, a strong pull, and there you are ! {hands bottle 
to Joyce) 

{Re-enter Fitolliot in a motor coat, carrying c^ap.) 

Hie deed is done ! 

Ffolliot. Thanks, {gets r. of table) 

Joyce, {pouring out wine) Now then, who is going to 
propose the toast ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Oh, no, Joyce—don't let's have any 
ormality. 

Joyce. But we micsf, or you won't be properly married, 

Pfolliott. The youngest bachelor. 

Joyce. Of cotirse / Come on, Laurie. 

Deeming. I'm afraid I'm no good at that sort of thing. 

Joyce. What rot ! Don't be snuffy, Laurie. 

Deeming, {very ivhite and set) Oh ! very well, since 
you wish it. My speech will have the merit of brevity. 

. {They all take up their glasses.) 

We wish Mrs, Harborow, whom I'm glad to meet to-night 
jor the first time, and Harvey Jessop a great many years of 
happiness, and every possible good luck \ 

{They all raise their glasses and drink, exxept Mrs. Har- 
borow, tvho stands motionless, white, staring straight in 
. front of her.) 

Slow Curtain. 



ACT II 

Scene. — The same. Half ayi hour later. 

The cha7npagne and glasses have bee7i re7noved, and on the 
table c. are^ several silver baskets of sweets and a litter of 
paper crackers. 

{As the curtain rises Harvey Jessop, wearing a foofs cap, 
is blowing a flute. Joyce has donned the headdress of r. 
vivandiere and is sounding a tin trumpet. Deeming dis- 
ports a bishop^s mitre and stands glancing at a book RX*. 
at back. Jessop breaks out into a little jig, still playing 
his flute. Joyce points at him^and shrieks loith laughter. 
Then she turns oMd sees that Mrs. Harborow, 7vho is seated 
at tvriting table, is ivifhout a head adornment.) 

Joyce, {picking up a paper cap of Liberty ayid rimning to 
Mrs. Harborow) Aunt Kate, you've nothing oji. It's 
not respectable. 

Mrs. Harborow. No, Joyce, please ! 

Joyce. But you must, {places cap on Mrs. Harborow's 
head) There ! Don't forget I am She-who-must-be-obeyed 
for one night only ! Oh, I'm so happy ! More crackers ! 
Mr. Jessop, you must leave oft dancing for one moment 
and pull this one. 

Jessop. I will ! I'll imagine it's the nose of some one 
— won't &ay his name — who holds an important official 
position. 

Joyce. I know who it is 

Jessop. Hush ! No politics. 

Joyce. It was {whispers in his ear) 

Jessop. No, it wasn't ! It was the other one. 

{They both laugh and pull the cracker. Jessop pretends to 
fall back on to the sofa.) 

Joyce, {sits by his side on sofa) I think you're a great 
addition to the family. 

26 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 27 

jESSor. How do we stand, by the wa}^ ? By marrying 
your aunt 

Joyce. If Pharaoh was the son of Moses' daughter- 
it follows 

Jessop. That I'm your step-uncle. 

Joyce. Uncle Harvey, you're a dear ! {kisses him) 

Jessop. " A poor thing, but your own," Hamlet. Scene 
2. Murder 1. 

{They laugh. The scene up to this point, fust simple nonsense 
and fooling, must go with the utmost vim and vivacity. 
Mrs. Harborow, wearing her cap of Liberty, is still at ivriting 
table doivii l. scribbling a note. Deesung remains at booh 
case R.c. at bach.) 
Joyce. Where are you, Laurie ? 
{He turns.) ^ 
You're frightfully serious ! Uncle Pharaoh — I mean Uncle 
Harvey — is the only perfect ass of the party. 

Jessop. {rises and boivs politely) I always do my best 
to give satisfaction ! {speaking in the manner of a shop- 
walker and I may say, madam, that in the whole of a long 
experience — hon — I have never remarked a finer display' of 

coreopsise' r-cso'ser; {pretends to sneeze) 

Joyce, {movss up c. aooic table) Oh, bother your old 
coreopsis. I don't believe in it ! 

Jessop. (foUoiving her) " Parole d'honneur ! " 
Joyce. U"c11, show me then. Tell you what — I'll race 
you there. 

• Jessop. Come on Macduff and etcetera, etcetera, etcetera^ 
be he who first cries hold enough ! 

(Joyce rims off l.xj.e., followzd by Jessop.) 

Deeming, {smiling, looking after Jessop) Good old 
Jessop ! 

Mrs. Haeeorow. He's just like a boy ! 
Deeming. He's a good sort. 

(He has strolled down and now stands below table. Mrs. Har- 
borow looks at him. They are still weari)ig the pajjer caps. 
She laughs.) 

Mrs. Harporow. How funny we must look ! You in 
your biahop's mitre. I in my cap of liberty. When Fate 
arrange tl that we vere to play in a little drama, he forgot 
to drc^s lis fcr the ■ part, or dressed us wrongly, {taking 



28 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

off- her cap) My Caj) of Libc-rt} ! How quaint ! As if we 

were, ever free ! . 

"'D'EEMi^TG. HaAT- I altered ? 

Mes. Harborow. Not umcli ! Life lias pvvp]>t over j^ou 
lightly. Your- emotion. ; ^.riv ],evcr deep enough to leave 
a m^rlt. You look perho:ps, just now, a little as j^oii'cjid 
that clay in the Place 'Yendome— do you remember?^-, 
and I feci inclined .to laugh now, just as I did then/ when 
the bottom suddenty dropped out of my small world. , 

- •. ©IiJiiiMiiTG. Fifteen 3':ears ! 

-..■Mbs. , Harboeow. (laiighmg c, liitU '(ruri,adiJy) Don't 
le^fej it. in, Jasper. ; Father Time is a churl. He favours 
his ov/ii sex, at the expense of mine. I suppose I look a 
hundred ? 

Deeming. No, you're just the same. 

Mrs. IIareorow. {rhc<^ and moves c.) Vvhat have the 
3)^rs brought you, Janxr 'r I've no right to ask; but ii 
would interest mc. 

Deeming. There's a good deal I can tell 3^ou, much that 
hM- better be left unsaid, {crosses r.) 

Mrs. IIarbokow. Ah ! The human wreckage, the un- 
considered trifles, that float in the wake of a hght-hearted 
gentleman wlio sails the ocean, fancy free. 
'-'Deeming. A yeav after I 

Mrs. Harbokonv. After you left me? - 

Deeming. Yes. 

Mrs. HAREOPvOvr. :\Iy clear Jasper, there's no need to 
juggle v/ith facts. Besides in your case, you must remember 
that' -the indiscretions of fifteen j^ars ago have become 
almost hallowed by your friend Father Time, whilst we poof 

women {she shrugs her sliouldcrs with a half smile, and 

sits L. of tcd>lc c.) 

■ ' Deeming , ( ' ■ , v/ table c.) I'd been living in New York, 
getting . livelihood, when there came a chance 

of a cc tricky biisi'ness, near the line, but I 

thought not ciisiioiiCot. 

Mrs. Harboeow. iqdidly) You were always an optimist. 

Deeming. The v.hole a^tiair miscarried, and I had to cut 
and run. I booked a passage in the City 'of Q?ie&cc to put 
people * " .rack, sent my bag on board, and Mt for 
Moi id; l;now, the City of Quebec went down with 

^ill ' list of passengers was the name 6i 

Ja ^ d by the New York police. It Avas a 

bit oi inck. 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 29 

Mrs. Harborow. [laughing slighily) Oh ! Jasper, how 
characteristic that is ! ~ 

,. Deeming. Eh ? 

Mrs. Harborow. What did it matter that seven Imndjed 
people drowned, or that a woman in Paris Avas sorely stricken ? 
^■Thpse were details ; flotsam and jetsam, that the sea S3ldom 
■throws up. You, at any rate, v^^ere s^fe ! 

Deeming, My dear Kate, do please let's be reasonable. 
The ship was lost, and it served my turn ; and as for you, 
how was I to know— — 

Mrs. Harborow. That I hadn't coiLSoled mj'self nitfi 
another light hearted gentleman ? Hovv^ indeed ? 

Deeming. Shall I go on ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Do. It's very interesting. 

Deeminc;'. When I \\-as in Florida I heard that my v/ife 
had died. 

Mrs. Harborov*^ [quietly) Another " bit of luck." ■ 
' Deeming, {quite seriously) I suppose it was ! They toJ.(J 
me that she grew very corpulent before her death. 

Mrs. Harborow. That was inconsiderate ! After all, she 
jbore your name. 

Deeming. I suppose I didn't treat her over well. /I 
always disliked her hands. Tlie}^ seemed to ms all knu<3kles. 
Well,- anyv/a}-, she died. 

Mrs. Harborow. And as the yeais go on, her merits 
will grow less, and her knuckles larger ! 

' Deeming. I tried fruit farming— ruo go ! Had a shot 
at nearly e\'erything. Made a bit, lost a bit, saved nothing. 
Intimately I returned to England. Here until lately^ I've 
done pretty well. Made enough to run to rooms, in St. James';?? 
Street and a cottage in the country. Tins summer I'm rent- 
ing Oaklands close by. 

Mrs. Harborow. Yes. I know. What do you do V 

Deeming. For a living ? Oh. I've interests in the City. 
Lately I've been^ hit rather hard— however that's another 
story. 

>. Mrs. Harborow. And so Fate, always busy weaving, 
has brought us together again. 

Deeming. Yes, it's curious. 

Mrs. Harborow. What is called the long arm of coin- 
cidence. In point of fact, it's the short arm — the sword 
• arm— of Destiny. Well, one thing is certain. One of us 
must go — which is it to be ? 

Deeming, [rises) 1 leave to-morrov/ in any case. 



30 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Mrs. Harborow. Are you going back to town ? 

Deeming. Yes ; after that, my movements are uncertain. 

Mrs. Harborow. {rises and moves to him) Well, Jasper 
— I wish you luck ! 

Deeming. You mean it ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Yes — I mean it. {she offers her hand) 

Deeming, {taking it) By George, you're a damn good 
sort. 

-{She smiles faintly. In the distance is heard Jessop's voice : 
''No, I canH run another yard. Pm absolutely pumped 
out.'''' She drops Deeming's hand.) 

Mrs. Harborow, Here comes the best man that ever 
stepped, {ivistfidly, looking straight in front of hzr) I wish 
I could love him as well as he deserves, {crosses doivn R. 
Deeming gets to fireplace) 

{The voices are now quite near. Re-enter Joyce and, Jessop 

L.U.E.) 

Joyce, {at entrance l.u.e.) Come in, Macduff ! {moves 
c.) It's no use mumbling the etcetera part under your 
breath — I heard you ! 

(Mrs. Harborow inoves up c. to right of Joyce.) 

Jessop. {enters puffing) That was when I fell into a bed 
of flowering broccoli. I've jumped gates, and vaulted 
cucumber frames, and "shushed" at sleepy cows — they're 
dreadfully dangerous when they're sleepy. I've trilled 
like a nightingale, and I've spoilt my boots ! 

Joyce, {laughs to Mrs. Harborow) Isn't he a sports- 
man ! Uncle Harvey, I think you deserve a drink, {crosses 
to table R. ayid takes up decanter) Whisky ? 

Jessop. Thank you. 

(Joyce pours in nearly half a tumbler of ■'<pirit.) 

My dear child, what are you doing ? Do j^ou wish the day 
of my Nup-tu-als to end in a debork ! {takes glass and 
decanter) Here, let me pour some back ! {does so) 

Joyce, {picking up dish of chocolate from table c.) Aunt 
Kate, won't you have anything ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {at French windoivs) No, thanks, dear. 

Joyce. Not a choc ? 

Mrs. Harborow. No, thank you. 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 31 

Joyce. Laurie ! — chocs ? 

^Deeming." Thanks ! 

Joyce, {crosses to Mm l. pointing) I've left a curly one 
for you — it's got nougat inside. 

Deeming. Don't I know it !' 

Jessop. Beastly favouritism ! 

Joyce. Oh ! poor Uncle Harvey — there ! {offers dish) 

Jessop. Thanks! {kikes diocolate) and I believe it's 
got nougat inside ! (Joyce replaces dish on table c.) 

Deeming. Well, I think I'll have to be getting back. 
Are you coming my waj^, Jessop ? 

Jessop.- Jes, John Anderson — me — Jo — me — John, we'll 
clam the hill togither ! 

Joyce. I'll get your coat. 

Jessop. No, no, don't you bother, {moves towards the 
door R.u.E.) 

Joyce, {pulling him hack to l.c.) You are to, stay here. 
Laurie, come and get your things, {pantomimes that Jessop 
and Mrs. Harborow are to he left alone together. As Deeming 
passes her, she ivhispers) He wants to kiss her. 
{Exeunt Joyce and Deeming r.u.e.) • 
{A pause.) 

Jessop. Wonderful moon ! 
Mrs. Harborow. Yes, Harve}^ 

(Mrs. Harborow^ has picked up her needlework and is. noio 
seated in arMchair hy the fireplace.) 

Jessop. It's — er — will you have a chocolate ? 

Mrs. Harborow. No thanks, Harvey. 

Jessop. Humph ! {pause) Are j^ou happy, Kate ? 

Mrs. Harborow^ Quite happj^ 

Jessop. Good ! . I'm — I'm glad of that ! 

{An aiokward little pause.) 

(Joyce puts her head round door.) 

Joyce, {to Deeming hehind her) Not yet. .{withdraws) 
Jessop. Funny thing — do you know, Kate — I feel un- 
accountably shy in this light. 
Mrs. Harborow. Do you ? 

Jessop. Yes — in the — er — garden, it was different. 
Mrs. Harborow. Darker, you mean ? 



32 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Jessop. [ivith emphasis) Yes — yes, much darker, in the 
garden ! 

(Joyce looks in again.) 

Joyce, {to Deeming) Well, I never ! 

(Jessop Tiears noise at door, turns and sees Joyce. She 
pantomimes to him to kiss Mrs. Harborow.) 

Jessop. {moving towards Mrs. Harborow, who is en- 
gaged with needlework) Kate ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Yes. 

Jessop. There seems to be an almost universal desire 
that I should kiss you ! 

(Joyce ivithdraios.) 

Mrs. Harborow. {very softly, with almost girlish con- 
jiision) Oh ! Harvey ! 

Jessop. I hate to give disappointment, {in a quite 
different tone — very earnestly) Good night, Kate. You've 
made me very happy. 

Mrs. Harborow. {rising) Does it really mean something ~ 
to you ? 

Jessop. {earnestly) Everything ! ! You've made me the 
happiest man in England, {he kisses her) 
{Re-enter Joyce, followed by Deeming. The latter now wears 

his overcoat and carries a cap. Joyce has Jessop's coat and 

hat.) 

Joyce, {as she comes dancing in) Hurray ! {stops r.c.) 
(Mrs. Harborow turns away smiling and a tittle confused^ 

picks up the note she was icriting at the beginning of Act, 

stamps it, and takes it up to Dijeming, asking him to post it 

in the pillar box.) 

Jessop. {shaking his finger at her) You little monkey ! — 
bless you ! {crosses to her) 

Joyce, {in his ear) Aren't I useful ? 

Jessop. {getting into his coat) You're a perfect Machi- 
avelli. 

Joyce. The juggling person ? 

Jessop. No, that's Cinquevalli — same thing. Thanks. 
(Deeming has meanwhile crossed round at back, and spoken 
to Mrs. Harborow. They remain at ivindow l.u.e.) 

Good night, little lady — how does it feel to have a new 
uncle ? 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 3:3 

Joyce. Ripping ! It has been a lovely evening, 

Jessop. Hasn't it ? If ever I have a coat of arms pre- 
pared — which Heaven forbid — do you know what I shall 
have quartered on it ? 

Joyce. No. 

Jessop. Coreopsis rampant ! 

{They both laugh. Jessop kisses Joyce, and then joins Mrs, 
Harborow l.u.e. Deeming at the same time crosses 
R.c. to say good-bye to Joyce.) 

Deeming. Good night, Joyce. 

Joyce. Good night, Laurie. 

Deeming. The moon is at the full. 

Joyce. This is the hour when the fairies are busy. 

Deeming. Busy at what ? 

Joyce, {dreamily) Weaving garlands for those they 
love 

Deeming. I wonder 

Joyce. Well ? 

Deeming. Will the fairies have a flower to spare for a 
gipsy friend, as he crosses their enchanted ground. 

Joyce, {softly) Of course — I'll tell them. 

Deeming, {tenderly) Good night, little lady of the Red 
May. 

Joyce. Good night. The fairies are coming to pay me 
a visit — when the lamp is^ lowered. 

{They shake hands. Jessop shakes hands with Mrs. Har- 
borow, crosses in front of her and exits l.u.e., calling a 
cheery " Good night ''"' as he goes out. Deeming moves up to 
Mrs. Harborow, shakes hands, says " Good night " and 
follows Jessop.) 

{Exeunt Jessop and Deeming l.u.e.) 

Joyce, {looking at table c.) What a mess ! How cross 
Geoffrey w^ould be, if he could see it ; but he can't, he can't, 
he can't ! Where's your Cap of Liberty, Auntie ? 

Mrs. Harborow {smiles and crosses to writing table) Here, 
dear ! I resign it. {hands cap) You see, {thoughtfidly) 
my day of freedom is over ! . 

Joyce, {laughs and puts on cap) Oh ! I don't think 
Uncle Harvey will be very severe. He's a greater baby 
than I am ! {crosses r.) 

Mrs. Harborow. I wasn't thinking so much of Harvey. 



34 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

{thoughtfully) In a sense one would be no longer free if one 
ceased to be master of oneseK, 

Joyce, {looking at window) And become the slave of 
the man in the moon ! {loith a change of tone) What a 
litter ! {commences to gather up the scattered paper-crackers 
from the centre table) 

Mrs. Harborow. Shall I help you ? 

Joyce. ' No, don't trouble, Aunt Kate. 

Mrs. Harborow. I think I'd better, {collects some of the 
Jitter) 

Joyce. Geoffrey woidd be furious ! He loves everything 
to he in its place. He's no imagination, poor dear, {places 
a bundle of litter in waste-paper basket by writing table) 

Mrs. Harborow. {crosses to r.) He possesses the more 
solid qualities. 

Joyce. Oh, yes ! He's frightfully solid ! {collecting 
m^re litter) He insists on plain English cooking ! Because 
"it le^vves so little to the imagination, I suppose. 

(Mrs. Harborow laughs.) 

'There ! {places some paper -crackers in the waste-paper basket) 
I think I shall keep this cap — The Cap of Liberty ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Some one has said that freedom is 
merely changing one master for another. 

Joyce, {examining cap, thoughtfidly) Yes — I suppose 
that's true. 

Mrs. Harborow. The changing years each bring with 
them a fresh tyrant with a keener lash. 

Joyce. Does that apply to love, Auntie ? Do you think 
love changes ? 

Mrs. Harborow\ {pauses a moment, then) I hope so ! 

Joyce, {surpsised) You hope so ? 

Mrs. Harborow. It would be hard for some if the chain 
should never break, {slight pause ; sits on sofa) 

Joyce, {moves to arrn chair oBove fireplace) [tigldly) This 
is Geoffrey's chair ! {thoughtfully) I dare say he feels 
drowsy after hunting. I expect it's boring to talk nonsense 
— if you don't want to. It's so odd ! I was looking forward 
so tremendously to this evening — {brightly) we've had 
great fun — haven't we ? 

Mrs. Harborow^ {a little grimly) Yes — great fun ! 

Joyce. Yet somehow — I — {shivers) I feel a little 
lonely, {crosses back to chair, glances round to see if her Aunt 
is looking, then .kneels down and kisses it) 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 35 

Mrs. Harborow. You're tired, dear, {on sofa) It's bed-^ 
time. 
Joyce. Not just yet. Auntie. 
Mrs. Harborow. It's past twelve. 

Joyce. I shouldn't go to sleep ! I'm rather worried. 
Mrs. Harborow. {tenderly) Can I help ? 
Joyce. I should like to tell you. 
Mrs. Harborow. Come, what is it ? 
Joyce, {perplexed) Oh ! I'm very, very worried, {sits 
beside Mrs. Harborow) 

Mrs. Harborow. You'll feel much better when you've 
told me. 

Joyce. I've been »uch a little fool, Auntie. 
Mrs. Harborow. Have you ? 

Joyce. You see, I keep forgetting that a married woman 
ought to be very dignified and keep people at their distance. 
{very seriously) I find it awfidly difficult to behave like a 
married woman. 
Mrs. Harborow. You'll learn in time. 
Joyce, {rises, and stands at back of chair r. of table C.) 
Do you mind sitting over here. I can tell you much better 
in this chair. 

"Mrs. Harborow. {laughs) All right, {sits r. of table c) 
Now then ! 

Joyce, {kneels beside chair) That's much nicer. It's 
very dread fid ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Tell your Mother Confessor. 
Joyce. Laurie's been making love to me ! 

(Mrs. Harborow quivers for a second as if some one had 
struck her.) 

{continuing) It was all my fault. I led him on. To- 
night he kissed me ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {in a ivhisper) To-night ! 

Joyce. I wanted to be loved so much. And he said he 
loved me. 

Mrs. Harborow. {very softly) Go on. 

Joyce. I ought to have been awfully shocked ! But I 
wasn't a bit ! He held me in his arms, and said such sweet 
things. He is a dear ! I'm awfully fond of him — and just 
for a second I thought I cared. 

Mrs. Harborow. {quietly) Has this been going on — 
long ? 



36 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Joyce. Oh, we've been splendid pals and all that, but 
he's never kissed me till to-night. 

Mrs. Harborow. Do you ? 

-Joyce. Oh ! I like him — ever so much. 

Mrs. Harborow. {a shade bitterly) Ah ! 

Joyce. But that's not all ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Well ? 

Joyce. He said he was going away to-morrow — and I 
felt frightfully sorry — he was holding me in his arms, just 
as I've often longed for Geoffrey to do, and I couldn't bear 
to let him go without another word — so 

Mrs. Harborow. {quietjy) Yes ? 

Joyce. So I asked him to come back to-night — when 
you had gone — to say " Good-bye." 

Mrs. Harborow. (quietly) He agreed of course. 

Joyce. I was to lower the lamp as a signal. 

Mrs. Harborow. Joyce, did you realize the danger you 
were running ? 

Joyce. I didn't then. 

Mrs. Harborow. But you're a little frightened now ? 

Joyce. Yes. 

Mrs. Harborow. I've heard something of this Mr. 
Deeming. I fancy if the little bird had fluttered into his 
net, her young wings might have been cruelly crushed I 
When you go upstairs to-night, thank God for his mercy ! 
Say a prayer too, for those others — and for all unhappy 
women. 

(Joyce buries her head in Mrs. Harborow's lap.) 

Ah ! Little Joyce, when I think of what you might have 
become— poor baby ! Thrown to join the other wreckage ! 

Joyce, [with her head still bent) Have I been very wicked ? 

Mrs. Harborow. You've been very thoughtless, dear. 
Now you must promise me one thing. This friendship with 
Mr. Deeming must cease. 

Joyce. He goes away to-morrow. 

Mrs. Harborow. Not he ! He'll return and return, 

until Listen to me, Joyce. Go up to your room now. 

I will see Mr. Deeming ! There must be an end ! Now 
do as I tell you, dry your eyes, and when you wake in the 
morning sunshine, the cloud will have passed. 

Joyce. Good night. Aunt Kate. 

Mrs. Harborow. Good night, my dear child. 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 37 

(Joyce walks very sloioly urith boived head to the c. exit ; she 
does not look round and her demeanour 7nust be in ^narked 
contrast to her previous buoyant step. Exit Joyce c.) 

(Mrs Harborow lejt alone, rises and stands for a moment, 
as though bracing herself jor an effort. She then listens 
intently, and finally steals towards the lamp ivhich stands 
L. of c. entrance. She lowers the lamp. The room is 
now in simi -darkness, the only other illuminant being the 
wax candles ivhich cast a flickering light from the sconces 
against the panelled wcdls. The efjict is thus a trifle eerie. 
There is absolute stillness save for the wind faintly sobbing 
round the eaves. Mrs. Harborow creeps softly to just 
below the -French window l.u.e. and is partly \concealed 
by the curtains.) 

{There is heard a soft tread on the gravel path. A moment 
later Deeming enters. He has changed his evening coat for 
a dark smoking jacket and ivears no overcoat. He crosses 
to R.c. ^45 he does so Mrs. Harbosow emerges from her 
hiding place, and as he turns she stands confronting him.) 

Deeming, (astonished) Kate! 
Mrs. Harborow. Yes, Kate ! 

{She remains facing him for a moment, then moves to the lamp 
and turns up the wick. He stands motionless. She looks 
at him.) 

Mrs. Harborow. I'm afraid you're disappointed. 
(Deeming is silent.) 

You expected to find some one whose cliarms were younger 
and fresher ! {quotes) " Lo ! some we loved, the loveliest 
and the best ; That Time and Fate of all their vintage prest." 
— Do you remember those lines ? 

Deeming, {a shade sullenly) I remember ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {thoughtfully) How many million 
years have passed since We used to read Omar in the Forest 
of St. Germain. It's strange hovv^ near it seems. 

Deeming, {ivith a veiled sneer) I'm not much given to 
dwelling on the middle ages. 

Mrs. Harborow. {change of tone) Perhaps it's as well. 
{crosses to fireplace) The past might have an incon-venient 
way of recalling certain episodes, that a light-hearted gentle- 
man had best forget. 

Deeming, {crosses to Mrs. Harborow) Look here. 



38 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Kate. It's half-past twelve and I've got to be up early in 
the mornmg ! Is it really necessa^ to rake up all this 
business now ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Very necessary, I think. 

Deemiis^g. What has been, has been {crosses n. and throivs 
his cap on sofa) — and, well, there it is ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {standing l. of table) I have hinted 
at a certain episode — in order to mark it — shall v.e call it 
the Paris adventure ?— with light-hearted gentlemen Hke 
yourself, these affairs are so frequent one has to label them — 
I have referred to this episode because I want yon to under- 
stand as clearly as anything can be, that what happened 
then, is not going to happen here ! 

Deeming. What do you mean ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {fiercely) I mean that my sex have 
given enough to you and yours ! — their toll has been paid in 
blood and tears, in broken hearts o.nd maimed and tortured 
lives ! Be satisfied ! 

Deemii%g. I still don't understand. 

Mrs. Harborow. You want it even plainer ? Very well. 
I, at least, can speak from knowledge. You took my life — 
I was but nineteen .then — crushed it and twisted it — used 
your scalpel as any surgeon might, and cut the heart out of 
it. Then when that operation was successfully completed, 
you flung the body aside— that other crows might have their 
share ! 

(Deeming boivs his head.) 

You're beginning to understand ? Did you ever think, or 
ever care what became of the girl of twenty you left behind ? 
Did it matter to you that placed as she .was, there would 
be a hundred flies buzzing round the honey pot, when 
yop had gone ? What did it matter ? You had played 
your part ! Yours the right to play the lover ! Hers 
the penalty of sex ! {in a different tone) Could there be 
anything more tragic than such a reckless squandering of 
love— unwanted— undesired ! Tragic and foolish too ; for 
a spendthrift in love must come to ruin, with never a one. 
to shed a tear ! 

Deeming. Kate ! {boivs his head) I'm ashamed, 
ashamed ! 

(Mrs. Harborow looks at him for a moment, thei funis, 



TPIE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 39 

and crosses to the ^ fireplace and stands looking down into 
the empty grate.) 

Deeming. — Nothing can excuse or altar what has been. 
But I want to say this. You think that I had it in my mind 
to injure Joyce ? 

(Mrs. Harborow does not reply.) 
You arc wrong ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {now quite calm again) Then may I 
ask why you visit her at midnight — she a baby, as far as 
knowledge of the v/orld is concerned ? 

Deeming. I came to saj^ good-bye. 

Mrs. Harborow. [scornfully) To say good-bye ! 

Deeming. I don't deny — I'm not going to deny — that I 
love Joyce. 

Mrs. Harborow. Ah ! 

Deeming. I shall always love her — I think. 

Mrs. Harborow [once more cold) You should know ! 
Your expevicnco has been extensive. 

Deeming. I love her so much indeed that I would die 
rather llian harm her. 

Mrs. Harborow (woyes l.c.) Then wasn't it rather a pity 
to commence by hopelessly compromising her ? 

Deeming. It was foolish, {moves r.) 

Mrs. Harborow. (c.) You know what her husband is ! 
He hasn't your convenient method of turning black into 
white. 

Deeming. (/>.••,'?.?) He didn't object to our being about 
together. 

Mrs. Harborow. Because he looks upon his girl- wife as a 
child. Besides, to roam the lanes in daylight is one thing. To 
meet her here alone at midnight is another ; if I know any- 
thing of Geoffrey he would certainly turn her out of doors t 

Deeming. He cdulcin't be such a cold-blooded brute. 

Mrs. Harborow. His views of honour and wifely virtue 
are not perhaps so elastic as jrours ! 

Deeming, {crosses to Mrs. Harborov/) I came, I 
say, to bid her good-bye ; after to-night she'd have seen me 
no mcie. 

Mes.; H/rrcEGW. Jasper, yen ought to have that phrase 
irj£cril(d en a i he iicgraphic' record — you'd find it useful. 

Dri.v:-:T'. Ycu'vc gro-wn very bitter, Kate, {moves R.) 

i>^iT. Hy lie row. That's sliange, isn't it? 

riirv..i,c;. Ii's a pity. 



40 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

(Mrs. Harborow hursts into a fit of laughter and crosses to 
loriiing table.) 

Mrs. Harborow. Thank heaven for my sense of humour, 
Jasper, you are perfect ! You are sorry that I should be 
bitter ! {sits) My friend, you are the most glorious egoist 
in the history of the world ! 

Deeming, {rather sullenly) Well, I do think it a pity 
when a cheery woman grows hard, and says snappy things. 

Mrs. Harborow. My dear Jasper, like many other 
famous lovers, I'm afraid you rather lack intelligence. If 
you possessed it, it might occur to you that this most un- 
feminine defect of '' bitterness " may have been the result 
of your own action. 

Deeming.- {crosses c.) Oh ! of course, it's very easy to 
blame the man — he's helpless, he can't hit back ! 

Mrs. Harborov/. Poor dear ! 

Deeming, {rather cross) After all there are two sides 
to every question. Every sensible man knows that. But 
women are so damned unreasonable ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Oh ! We are ! 

Deeming. I've had a pretty rotten time, too, if it comes 
to that ! My life hasn't been all skittles by any means. 
Sometimes I haven't known where to find my next meal. 
Just now, I'm so hard pressed, I don't know which way to 
turn. Do you imagine I've nothing better to do than make 
love to a parcel of women, {working himself up) From the way 
you talked to me just now, 'pon my word, I might have been 
the greatest blackguard unhung. Make love to women. 
Yes, I do — and so does any man when he gets the chance ! 
And what's more, he's generally met half-way, and more than 
half-way, by those innocent angels that you have just 
been extolling ! Rot ! Let's talk sense ! A man's a 
wrong 'un and admits it, but a woman wants to be a wrong 
'un and dine "ivitli the Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Mrs. Harborow. My dear Jasper, I'm afraid you're 
annoyed. 

Deeming, {cooling down) Well, it's pretty sickening ! 
{moves R.) 

Mr. Harborow. '{rises) I know what it is ! I doubted 
your intelligence ! That was tactless. 

Deeming. I- think I've got as much as most people. 

Mrs. Harborow. Just novv' I thought I'd worked a miracle. 

Deeming, Did you ? 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 41 

Mrs. Harborow. I thought I had penetrated through 
yards and yards of rocky strata, and reached your heart ! 

Deeming. Oh ! 

Mrs. Harborow. You said, "Kate, I'm ashamed !" 
and you said it as though you meant it. 

Deeming. — And I did mean it — I was, and am, yqvj sorry 
for what happened fifteen years ago. 

Mrs. Harborow. Perhaps you are ; or perhaps you 
think you are, which for all practical purposes amounts to 
the same thing. 

Deeming, {reproachfully) You touched and upset me 
very much, {sits on sofa). 

Mrs. Harborow. Oh ! I'm sorry {half armisedly, half- 
ironically) I suppose your little snub about the middle 
ages hit me rather hard, and I fancy it annoyed me to hear 
our fete daj^s at St. Germain made a mock of — because I 
alwaj'S remembered them, have even now, a withered bit of 
bracken I brought from one of our e?:cursions ; so I — I'm 
afraid I let myself go ! 

Deeming, {quite seriously) I don't suppose you meant 
to be unkind — — 

Mrs. Harborow. No, no, I didn't ! Perhaps I said 
too much ! Sometimes it's a little difficult to express a 
great emotion in rag time. 

Deeming, {kindly, rising cap in hand) Oh ! that's all 
right, Kate, let's say no more about it. {pleasantly) You 
haven't changed much after all. •* 

Mrs. Harborow. {smiling) You think not ? 

Deeming. Anyway, we part good friends ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Yes, I'm' glad to have had this talk. 
I'm happier now than I've been for years. 

Deeming, {not understanding) Are you ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Yes, the chain is broken. 

Deeming. Chain ? 

Mrs. Harborow. I thought I had killed my love for you 
through long years of fasting and much penance ! I thought 
it was dead. When I met you to-night, quite unexpectedly, 
my heart beat fast, and I ha'd a fear that the old thraldom 
would return. 

Deeming. Well ! 

Mrs. Harborow. But something you said has struck the 
manacles from my wrists. 

Deeming. Something I said ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Oh ! You wouldn't have noticed it. 



42 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Now here let me give 3^011 a hint. It may be useful You 
can try a woman very hard, ill-treat her, deceive her, jump 
on her with hobnailed boots, and if she loves you, she'll take 
it all ; but one day you'll say, what seems to you a trifle, 
and her love will be as dead as last year's roses. Funny, 
isn't it ! 
Deeming. You're strange creatures. 

Mrs. Harborow. I suppose we are Mysteries to our- 
selves as much as to you. This at least I know. I'm free — 
free ! {crosses down l.) Free to go to the kindest, truest 
man who ever breathed, who knowing all — my stormy life, 
the wretched hopeless days in Paris — though knowing all yet 
forgives me all — because he loves me. {crosses up l.c.) 

Deeming, {crosses up r.c.) Ah ! Yes, Jessop's not a 
bad old chap — bit frisky for an old gentleman — but I dare 
say he'll tone down. 

Mrs. Harborow. {drily) He has an easy conscience 
you see ! 

Deeming, {laughs) A hit at me — what ! 

(Deeming is now standing above table r.c. Mrs. Harborow 
is near the lamp up l.c. Deeming's face is cdl smiles. He 
is looking at her. Presently his glance travels towards the 
open French windoivs, and his smile fades aivay. Mrs. Har- 
borow, noticing his changed look, turns also, and sees the 
figure of Geoffrey Ffolliot framed in the entrance. There 
is an absolute dead pause. All three stand motionless. There 
must be no starting or furtive glances. Then Ffolliot moves 
to fireplace, and speaks m an ordinary conversational tone.) 

Ffolliot. {quietly) Any whisky left ? 

Deeming and Mrs. Harborow. Yes, rather ! Yes ! 

Deeming. Shall I mix you a drink ? 

Ffolliot. Thanks, I've had a shocking time of it. 

(Deeming crosses to table r.) 

Mrs. Harborow. What happened ? 

Ffolliot. Well, I had a bit of trouble with the car, before 
starting, as I told you. Your betrothal festivities made me 
late and I'd only just time to catch the train. HaK-way to 
the station we got a puncture, {in answer to Deeming 
who is holding up tumbler with whisky in it) That'll do, 
thanks. . ■. . and we eventually arrived just in time to see 
the mail steam out. As it happened that wouldn't have 
mattered, for I found a telegram at the station which made 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 43 

my journey to London nnnecessaiy. {takes glass from 
DeeHiing, loho has crossed and handed it to him) Thanks ! 

{He puts glass on table c, crosses r., takes off his coat, 
throivs it on sofa, and sits e. of table c. Deeming sits at 
writing table. Mrs. Haeborow l. of centre table) 

The station telegraph office is the only one we possess in this 
benighted spot, and they don't of course deliver after 8 
o'clock. Got a cigarette, Deeming ? 

Deeming, {feels in the pockets of both coat and ivaistcoat) 
I'm awfully sorry, I've left my case at home. 

I'folliot. {calmly) It doesn't matter. We've run out 
unfortunately. Well, I got my \\ ire and prepared to come 
home. Would you believe it — nothing would make that 
car budge. We coaxed and petted, and swore and cursed, 
but all to no purpose. Finally, I left Jackson to it, and 
retired to the lamp room with the porter, {laughs) He's 
got a son in the 52nd. Just as he had finished giving me his 
views on compulsory service, Jackson arrived to tell me that 
the ignition was to rights and we could start ; and after that 
our adventures were at an end. {drinks) 

Deeming. By George, what rotten bad luck ! 

Ffolligt. Fortune of War ! 

Deeming. I'm afraid V\e been making rather a late 
sitting of it. 

Ffolligt. Is it late ? {looks at clock) So it is — nearly 
one. {finishes his drink) 

Deeming. The charms of Mrs. Harborow's conversation ! 

Ffolligt. {rises crosses to small table r., and puts doivn 
his glass) I dare say you found plenty to talk about. 

Deeming. Yes ; and I'm afraid I punished your brandy 
rather severel}^ Ffolliot. 

Ffolligt. My dear fellow, only too glad. 

Deeming. We were talking of Paris in the good o Id days 
before the importation of five o'clock tea. 

Ffolligt. Ah ! {holding ^p brandy decanter, ivhich is full 
almost to brim) Has this been refilled ? 

Mrs. Haeborow. No. 

Ffolligt. Well, — you're a modest drinker. Deeming, 

Deeming. Am I ? 

Ffolligt. Yes. Your potations won't bring much grist 
to the Excise ! 

Deeming. Oh, I just took a spot — quite enough for me, 
thanks. 



44 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Ffolliot. Have some more ? 

Deeming, {rises) No. I must be getting back (move? 
to fireplace and looks at clo'ck) I'd no idea hov/ late it was. 
I must have bored poor Mrs. Harborow to tears. 

(Mrs. Harborow smiles, shakes her head and crosses and sits 
on sofa.) 

Ffolliot. Well, just as you like, {crosses c.) Oh ! by 
^rhe way, I wanted to have a little talk about the Canadian 
Pacifies. Could you look in, in the morning ? 

Deeming, {crosses to Ffolliot above table) Certainly. 
What time ? 

Ffolliot. Would a quarter to ten be too early ? 

Deeming, {noiv quite cheerful) Not at all. Suits me 
capitally. 

Ffolliot. Good ! I'll expect you then. 

Deeming. Righto ! 

Ffolliot. {casually) I'll get 3/our coat, {mores to door 

R.U.E.) 

Deeming. Don't trouble, {suddenly reviemberivg) Oh ! 
I forgot — I didn't bring one ! 

Ffolliot. {pleasantly) Not very wise, my dear fellow. 
The night air's sometimes dangerous,. 

Deeming. Oh, I shall be all right, thanks. See you in the 
morning — good night. Good night, Mrs. Harborow. {nods 
to her and crosses to l.xj.e.) It's a lovely night. 

{Exit Deeming l.u.e.) 

Ffolliot. {takes out pipe and blotos into it. Then crosses 
and fills it from jar on loriting table) He'll soon be home. 
It's only ten minutes across the fields. 
(Mrs. Harborow rises and stands at back of chair r. of table.) 
You're very silent, Kate — an3-thing the matter. 

Mrs. Harborow. I'm a little tired, that's all. 

Ffolliot. I don't wonder, {lighting his pipe) If I'd 
been you I should have hoofed Deeming out hours ago. 

Mrs. Harborow. One didn't notice how the time went. 

Ffolliot. Why — is he such a fascinating conversation- 
alist ? 

Mrs. Harborow. He talked about old times. 

Ffolliot. What old times ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Life in France, for instance, as we had 
both known it. 

Ffolliot. Oh, yes. Very interesting, {crosses to fire- 



THE UNItNOWN QUANTITY. 45 

place and presses in tobacco ash ivith his finger) Nice chap, 
iish't lie ? ■ ' 

Mrs. Harborow. Very. 

Ffolliot. Let's see ! You'd never met him before ? 
, Mks. Harborow. No. 

Ffolliot. [laughs) W(41, T should think you, must know 
each other pretty well n> . 

Mrs. Hareorow. Vi^ivy ,.cll ! 

Ffolliot. I'm glad you liked him. He does a bit of 
business for me sometimes. He's often up in London. Saves 
me trouble. Buying and selling stocks and shares and so 
op. I should think he's a pretty good business man. I'm 
not ! r'3' the v/ay, v/hat did Deeming do with his cigarette 
case ? 

Mrs. IIarborow. His cigarette case ? 

Ffolliot. Yes— he said he'd left his case at home. 

Mrs. IIarborow. Well, hadn't he ? 

Ffolliot. Oh no. He gave me a cigarette just before 
I started ! He must have mislaid it somewhere, [looks on 
mantel-piece) Did he smoke While he was with you ? 

Mrs. Hareorow. I don't think so. 
; Ffolliot. Astonishing ! [crosses up to cabinet) He's an 
inveterate smoker, [looks about; Mrs. Harborow moves 
to fireplace) Do 3'ou see it ! 

Mrs. Harborow. No. 

Ffolliot. Did he take it out of his jwcket ? 

Mrs. Harborow. I didn't notice. 

Ffolliot. Didn't notice ! 
,. Mrs. Harborow. Why should I ? [turns) 

Ffolliot. [crosses to head of sofa) But my dear Kate, 
this. is amazing. Now I've a memory like glue. He had 
it before I left, that's certain. -It wasn't in his pocket just 
now ! You didn't see Kim produce it, and it's not in this 
room. Where is it ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Mightn't he have left it in his overcoat ? 

Ffolliot. True — true — I never thought of that. 

(Mrs. Harborow looks relieved.) 
But he hadn't got an overcoat. 

Mrs. Harborov/. Oh— No— I remember, 
p ^Ffolliot. [repeats) You remember, [crosses c.) But 
it's curious that you should have mentioned that because 
he certjinly did have an overcoat— a dust coat— it was 
hanging next mine ! 



46 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Mrs. Harborow. Isn't it there now ? 

Ffolliot. Ah ! of course, it must be ! He's forgotten it. 

{Crosses to B..JJ.^. exit, leaving the door open behind him. Mrs. 
Harborow swaijs as though she were going to fairit, then 
pulls herself together by a supreme effort and stands l. of 
table.) 

Ffolliot. {speaking through door) No ! It's not here ! 
This simply licks creation ! 

{He re-enters. As he does so, he gives a very keen glance at 
Mrs. Harborow who is now as white as death.) 

There must be some psychic influence at work. Coats, cigar- 
ette cases, disappear into thin air, and — by George — now 
this is the strangest thing of all ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {luith dry lips) What is ? 

Ffolliot. Conceive it ! In this room — before your very 
eyes — without your noticing it — he converted his evening 
dress coat into a sm.oking jacket! iVstonishing ! 

(Mrs. Harborow makes no reply. Ffolliot looks at her and 
then cr.'";sf ■; to small table r. and holds up thehrandy decanter.) 

Ffolliot. '" {sternly) Why did he tell me that lie about 
the brandy ? 

{8he is silent.) 

You've nothing to say ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Nothing. Except 

Ffolliot. Well? 

Mrs. Harborow. {qvAcily) Isn't it a mistake to torture 
a woman too far ? 

Ffolliot. {crosses to fireplace. Pause. He then turns 
and faces her) ' ' 

{She is silent.) 

What is this man to you ? You're going to marry my old 
friend Harvey Jessop. He believes in you — trusts you 
implicitly. What is this man to you ? You're still silent. 
Another point ! Driving back in the car I passed Jesscp's 
house, and seeing a light in his room I gave him a hail and 
related my adventures. lie then told me that he had accom- 
panied Deeming to his door, an hour previously. Why should 
Deeming change his coat and return here alone ? What 
object could he have ? Whv should he have lied to me ? 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 47 

He did not come to see me ? He knew I was away There 
were only yon and Joyce in the house. Who did he come 
to see ? * You must tell me ! It is obvious that I must know . 
Tell me. 
(Mks Harborow is now on the verge of collapse, and supports 

herself by resting- her hands on the hack of a chair) 
I am quite determined to probe this business to the bottom. 
Who did he come to see ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {swaying as she speaks) Mr. Deeming 
has been my lover. He came— to see me. 
{Pause^i 
Ffolliot. {coldhi) Thank you. That is what I wanted 
to know When I first came in I hoped agamst hope that he 
mioht have come back to fetch something— anythmg. But, 
his^'first lie t-ave him utterly awa^ . Two courses were open 
to me. To kick him out of the house there and then, or to 
•learn the truth from you. 

Mrs. Harborow. {quietly) The latter was eertamly 

the safer. , . . ^ ,, . 

Ffolliot. {tvUh a smile) I didn't select it for that reason 
but b-ca^^ae I'm particularly anxious that he should call 
upon me in. the morning. We shall then have some affairs 
to settle, of extreme importance. 

Mrs* Harborow. Is there anything more you want ot 



me 



Ffolliot. {crosses to sofa avd picks np his motor coat and 
cap) No, you've been very frank. There's nothing more 
to be said.' {goes up c) But in justice to Harvey Jessop 
as well as to mvself, I obviously cannot allow such an mtrigue 
to continue under my locf. {turns at toor r.u.e.) I don t 
wish Jovce to know. There's no need. You can make some 
excuse, 'and leave by the inind:v, train to-morrow. 
{Exit Ffolliot to hang vp coat r.u.e.) 
Mrs. Harborow. {mtsteaduy) Yes— I— 1 11 do my pack- 
ing to-night {moves to work-bctskft beloiv window l.u.e.) 

{Slight pause.) 
{While her back is turned .Joyce enters c. She losars a loose 
ivrapper and her hair is dovm. She enters cautiously and 
looks siviftly round the room and satisfies herself that her 
aunt is the only occupant.) 

Joyce. Aunt Kate. Why don't you come ui>stairs ? 
He must have gone ages ago. 



48 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

(Ffolliot re-enters r.u.e. in time to catch the last sentence. 
He stands silent for a moment.) 

Ffolliot. Of whom do you speak ? 

{A tiny pause.) 

(Joyce stands with bowed head. Mrs. Harborow makes a 
movement. Ffolliot silences her with a gesture. Ffolliot 
proceeds.) 
{in a hard even voice) Kate tells me that Laurence Deeming 
came here to-night to visit her. Is that true ? 

{A pause.) 

Joyce, {raising her head and speaking with an effort- but 
*w a clear fearless voice) No — he came here— ^to see me I 

Tableau and Slow Curtain 



ACT III 

Scene — The same. It is the next morning at 9.30 cf clock. 
The warm June sunshine streams in through the windows. 

{The electric hell at the main entrance rings and a moment later 
Thompson enters c. crosses to r.u.e. and exits, leaving the 
door ajar behind her. The Postman's voice is heard saying : 
''''Good morning, miss!^'' She replied: '^ Good -morning , 
Postman — something to sign ? " and there is a faint murmur 
of voices while they exchange remarks. The door up c. now 
opens and admits Joyce. She looks a strangely pathetic 
little figure as she stands at the entrance, with large troubled 
eyes clasping Gertie in her arms. Gertie, too, is ivearing the 
trappings of ivoe in the guise of a large black boiv. Joyce 
listens for a moment to the sound of the voices and then moves 
down to the fireplace. Thompson now re-enters with a long 
ivhite registered envelope, the Postman s receipt book, several 
other letters, two picture postcards, the previous nighfs 
'"Globe'" and some obvious circulars. Thompson deposits 
the morning'' s delivery en table c. and is about to cross to 
ivriting table to sign the Postman'' s book, lohen Joyce speaks,) 

Joyce, {moving a step or two towards her) Anything for 
me, Thompson ? 

Thompson, {starting) Lor,' m'm, how you did startle 
me. {tur7is to table) Yes, ni'm — two postcards, m'ml I 
must sign Postman's book {gloomily) or he'll be getting nasty. 
[crosses to writing table doivn l. aiul signs book for the receipt 
of registered package) 

{Meanwhile Joyce listlessly moves to table c. and turns over 
the letters and cards loith her forefinger. She picks up a card, 
looks at it and suddenly laughs.) 
Joyce. Oh ! look, Gertie— it's a cat ! Go for him ! 

(Thompson, having signed book, starts at the sound of laughter ^ 
then composing herself re-crosses and exits r.u..e.) 



50 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

(Joyce picks up the long white envelope, looks at it and lays it 

down ; she then arranges the other letters in little heaps, retain- 
ing her own two cards. Thompson re-enters— J oyc^ turns.) 
You had better take Mrs. Harborow's letters up to her 
Thompson. She won't be down just yet. {hands them to 
her) 

Thompson. Very good, m'm. 

Joyce. Has the master finished breakfast j^et ? {crosses 
to fireplace) 

Thompson." {in the manner of an analytical chemist) Just 
upon, I think m'm. {moves l.c.) 

Joyce. Did he eat one egg, or two, Thompson ? 

Thompson. Two ! 

Joyce. And bacon and marmalade ? 

Thompson, {gloomily) Yes, m'm, he'd just took a 
banana, when I went in with the Nor Chester 'Erald. 

Joyce, {her face brightening) I am glad — we'^Te both 
glad, aren't we, Gertie ? 

Thompson. Aren't you going to have nothing yourself, 
m'm ? 

Joyce. No, thank you, Thompson. 

Thompson. You only had a cup of tea, m'm. 

Joyce, That was quite enough. 

Thompson. Are you feeling poorly, m'm ? 

Joyce. We are not quite ourselves, are we, Gertie ? 

Thompson. I'm sorry to 'ear that, m'm ! 

Joyce. Oh ! it's nothing. I expect it's — indigestion. 

Thompson. Ah ! we suffer that way in the kitchen ! 

Joyce. Do you ? 

Thompson. Yes, m'm ! Have you tried Dr. Williaitt 
Watson's Perfect Little .Certs, m'm ? 

Joyce, {not interested) No, Thompson. 

Thompson. Cook swears by them, m'm ! 

Joyce. Gertie and I must try them some day ! 

Thompson. I feel sure they'll give you satisfaction, m'm. 

{Exit Thompson c.) 

Joyce, {to Gertie) But I'm afraid pills won't cure our 
trouble, will they, dear? {holds the dog to her.) 

{There is a sound outside. Joyce runs to door c, listens, and 
then rushes to l.u.e. and hides behind the window curtains. 
Enter Geoffrey Fflliot c. He is dressed in a dark blue 
serge suit. He goes to table c, picks up registered letter, 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 51 

turns it over, and reads the name of the firm embossed on the 
flap. He then crosses with if, and two circulars directed to 
him, and places them on writing table. He sits doum, opens 
the long envelope, loithdraws a document and carefidly scru- 
tinizes it, more especially the signature and those of the attesting 
witnesses. His face is very grave and serious. He throws 
the circidars aside, takes out his pipe, and fills it from the jar 
on the table slowly, thinking deeply all the while. Joyce 
has meanwhile stolen out from her hiding-place and ivatches 
him. She creeps down l. of table. Just as \e has finished 
loading his pipe Joyce speaks :) 

Joyce. Maj^n't I light it for you ? 

Ffolliot. [he pauses for a second, then his face hardens 
coldly, as he s'rikes a match) Dcn't trouble, thank you. 

Joyce, [unstfully) You always used to let me light 
your morning pipe ! 

Ffolliot. {coldly) I didn't know then that you had a 
capacity for burning your fingers ! (he refolds the document 
and replaces it in the envelope) 

Joyce. Geoffrey ! 

Ffolliot. Yv^ell ? 

Joyce. {f;adhj) You haven't looked at Gertie ! 

Ffolliot. I'm rather busy just now. {opens one of the 
circulars) 

Joyce. She's wearing a black bow, because she's so 
wretcliecb 

Ffolliot. {coldly) Is she ? 

Joyce. We neither of us slept. 
.• Ffolliot. {opening another circular) That was a pity. 

Joyce. I suppose you're frightfully angry with us. 

Ffolliott. {coldly) Oh, no ! I'm not angr}-. 

Joyce. It's something worse than that ? Something 
you can never forgive ? 

Ffolliot. {coldly) Is it necessary to ask that question ? 

Joyce, {moving away) Then Gertie and I must just 
creep av.ay, till we find some corner, where we can lie down 
and die. 

Ffolliot. {his voice a shade less harsh) Joyce. 

Joyce, {gladly turning) Yes. 
. Ffolliot. I want you to listen to me. 

Joyce, {eagerly) May I kneel here ? 

{He nods his head. SJie kneels a little to right of him.) 



52 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Ffolliot. I've always looked upon you as a child, and 
trusted you as a child. I ti:usted you as certainly and surely 
as I trust my own honour. I thought Deeming a good- 
natured fellow, who probably enjoyed your innocent im, 
and when you rambled away together for hours, I hadi^'t 
the faintest shadow of a suspicion ! I realize now, th^at 
in a sense, I have been to blame ! Yet, so certain was I 
imtil last night, that even now I can't believe it. 

Joyce, {sadly) You wouldn't listen when I tried to 
explain ; you just turned your back and left the room. 

Ffolliot. Joyce, I've just a gleam of hope that you made 
that admission to shield Kate. Think ! Don't answer 
hurriedly ! Practically our whole future depends on your 
answer. Kate said last night that Deeming came to see her. 
Was that true ? 

Joyce, (^er eyes shming very black and troubled in her 
lohite face) Geoffrey, I know I've been an awful little foolr-?- 
but I can't tell a lie ! 

Ffolliot. You adhere then to your story ? 
Joyce. Yes ! I'm not going to let Amit Kate take the 
blame — that wouldn't be fair. She loves me— oh, yes— I 
know she loves me — and would do anything on earth for me. 
But she can't help me now. If anyone is to suffer, it must 
be just Gertie and I. 

Ffolliot. You realize what you are saying ? 
Joyce. After all, have I done anything so very dreadful ? 
Ffolliot. That, of course, depends on 3^our point. of 
view. Amongst a good many blackguards of both sexes I 
dare say my ideas would be judged over strict. But for 
myself, I consider that for a married woman, to seize the 
chance of her husband's absence to receive a man — at dead 
of night — alone — undisturbed— while the rest of the household 
slept — to scheme with him — and plan with him — deliberately 
— cumiingly — knowing the risks and avoiding them — I say 
that that wife, be she child-wife or no, has been guilty of an 
act of treachery and disloyalty, that she has played the part 
of a cheat, and as such must take the consequences. 

Joyce, {rises from her knees, and stands erect and very 
proud, claspiny her pet close to her heart. Then speaking very 
quietly, but ivith supreme dignity) My father is dead, I have 
now no one to protect me ! If I had, no man alive would 
dare to call me — cheat ! 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 53 

{She turns and imlks sloivly to door c. ii.nth the majesty of a 
queen— this child— pauses for a second without turning, and 
then goes out.) 

(FroLLiOT sits froivning thoughtfully, staring straight ir. front 
of him. He then froduces a hunch of keys fro7n his trousers 
^pocket and selecting one unlocks and opens a drawer in the 
writing table. At that moment the outside bell rings. He 
once more ivithdraws the document from the long envelope 
and examines it through a magnifying glass that he picks 
up from the table.) 

(Thompson enters c. and exits k,u.e.) 

(Ffolliot replaces the document in its envelope and deposits 
both in the drawer wJtich he carefully relocks. Be-enter 
Thompson r.u.e.) 

Thompson. Mr. Jessop, sir. 
{Enter Harvey Jessop very bright and breezy in a light tweed 
suit. ) 

Jessop. {cheerily) Well, Thompson, you're looking merry 
and bright — 

{She looks at him gloomily.) 
That's good. 

{Exit Thompson c.) 

Grand day, Ffolliot. Makes you want to sing, but don't 
be alarmed— (^^ro^6'5 cap on sofa) I'm not going to ! (laughs) 
Now then, my dear friend, what can I do for you ? {crosses 
in front of table and for the first time notices Ffolliot's serious^ 
demeanour) Nothing \ATong, is there ? 

(Ffolliot nods gravely.) 

What's amiss ? Anyone ill ? Yo«: said nothing about it in 
your note. 

Ffolliot. It was not a thing I could write about. 

Jessop. Anything I can do ? 

Ffolliot. I'm in great trouble Jessop. {crosses R. ivith 
bent head, his hands clasped behind him) 

Jessop. Indeed ! 

Ffolliot. I can't see my way clear — {turn) I want your 
advice. 

Jessop. Of course. 



54 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Ffolliot. The matter concerns you as well. 
Jessop. (l.c.) Has it anything to do with Kate ? 
Ffolliot. Yes, 
Jessop. {decisively) Then I have a right to know. 

{points to chair p. of table c. Ffolliot sits and Jessop seats 
himself l. of table) 

Now ! 

Ffolliot. Jessop, my news will grieve and distress you 
sorely. . 

Jessop. Go on. 

Ffolliot, You will remember that last night I gave 
you a call as I passed your house, and that you told me you 
had left Deeming at his cottage an hour previously ? 

Jessop, Certainly. 

Ffolliot. He gave you the impression that he was going 
in for the night ? 

Jessop. He did ! 

Ffolliot. When I got home I found him here, with Kate 
Harborow. 

Jessop. He'd come back for something, 

Ffolliot, For what ? - 

Jessop, His cigarette case, cigar holder, anything. 

Ffolliot, At first I hoped so too, 

Jessop. How do you mean ? 

Ffolliot. He told me deliberately that he'd stayed on 
talking to Kate, and had never left my house. 

Jessop. But 

Ffolliot. Why should he lie to me — why should he 
return ? 

Jessop. Oh ! some good reason. 

Ffolliot. {with 7neaning) Ah ! 

Jessop. Well ? 

Ffolliot. Old friend, I'd give anything to spare you this . 

Jessop. I must know, 

Ffolliot. I noted various things. That he'd changed 
his coat ; was minus his cigarette case, thai he had no over- 
coat and so forth. Lie succeeded lie ! Finally he left. 

Jessop. Then ? 

Ffolliot. Since he was not in the house by accident, 
it was plain that he had come by design. 

Jessop. Yes ? 

Ffolliot, Only two people could be concerned — Kate and 
Joyce ! ^ 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 55 

Jessop. {repeating in a whisper) Kate and Joyce. 

Ffolliot. Which of the two had he come to see ? 

Jessop. (m a whisper) My God ! 

Ffolliot. It was imperative that I should know, so I 
put the question point blank to Kate. 

Jessop. {moistening his dry lips tvith his tongue) W^hat 
was her answer ? 

(Ffolliot pauses, leans across the table and places his hand 
on the other s arm.) 
You must tell me, please. 

Ffolliot. She said that Deeming \y-aq her lover and had 
come to see her. 

Jessop. {springing up.) It's a damned lie ! 

Ffolliot. Wait ! 

Jessop. Kate Harborow is a good and pure woman ; and 
I'll Imock down the first man who sa,ys she isn't. 

Ffolliot. Wait ! 

Jessop. It's monstrous, monstrous, {paces about i,.) 

Ffolliot. Hear me out. 

Jessop. {pacing up and down) It's unthinkable ! 

Ffolliot. I then left the room for a moment. In my 
absence Joj^ce had entered. As I came back I heard her 
say to Ka,te : " He must have gone ages ago."" I said : "Of 
whom do 3"OU speak ? " She made no reply. Then I added : 
" Kate tells me that La-urence Deeming came here to-night 
to see her ! Is that true ? " She replied : " No, he came 
here to see me." 

Jessop. {incredulously) Joyce ! 

Ffolliot. Doubting the evidence of my own senses, I 
again questioned Joyce this morning — again she gave me the 
same reply. 

Jessop. Ffolliot, there's some mystery here. There must 
be some explanation. 

Ffolliot. The evidence is conclusive. 

Jessop. Many an imiocent man has been hanged on con- 
clusive evidence, {moves to bell above fireplace and rings) 

Ffolliot. What are you going to do ? 

Jessop. I'm going to send for Kate and talk to her like a 
Dutch Uncle. There must be a wav out, and I'm eoing to 
find it. 

{Enter Thompson at c. entrance.) 

Please tell Mrs. HarboroAv that Mr. Harvey Jessop is here 
and would like a word with her. 



56 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Thompson. Yes, sir. 

{Exit Thompson c.) 

Jessop. [cheerfuU//) Cheer up, old man. We're going 
to sort things out. Kate's bound to speak the truth to me. 
Begad, she's got to ! Aren't I her future husband ? I 
shall tell her straight ! I shall say : '' Kate, me girl — no 
taradiddles — that's not your line of country — that's your 
husband's province." 

(Enter Mrs. Haeborow very white, but quite calm at c. door.) 

(cheerily) Here she is — bless her ! Looking like the Duchess 
of Gainsborough — no, I mean, the Duchess, by Gainsborough ! 
(laughs) Thai's right ! Now sit down there, Kate — (points 
to chair he has vacated ; she sits) Well, now, (he stands with 
his hack to the fireplace) FfoUiot tells me there's been some 
little bothera^tion and we want you to help us. 

Mrs. Harborow. (quietly) What do you wish me to do ? 

Jessop. I want you to kindly answer some questions, 
will you ? 

Mrs. Harborow. If I can. 

Jessop. (laughs) I shall make j^ou — I'm chairman of 
the Bench of Magistrates. 

Mrs. Harborow. I'll tell you a.nything I ca,n, Harvey, 

Jessop. I'm sure you will. You needn't imagine you're 
in the witness box — just think you're shopping at Harrod's. 

Mrs. Harborow. (smiling slightly) Well, Harvey ? 

Jessop. Last night certain events occurred that we need 
not specify. You made an admission. 

Mrs. Harborow. A statement. 

Jessop. Exactly. 

Mrs. Harborow. (firmly) What I said last night, I 
repeat again to-day. 

Jessop. (hrushing aside her remark) Well, we're inclined 
to think there's more in this than meets the eye ! I've- been 
chasing you about Europe, Kate, for twelve solid years, 
and if I don't know the best and worst of you, I should like 
to know the man who does. 

Mrs. Harborow. I've nothing more to say. 

Jessop. (hlandhj) We shall see ! Well now, we've got 
to get a motive. You're found alone with a certain gentle- 
man. You make a statement. If not guilty, why should 
you ? Joyce makes a counter-statement, if not guilty, why 
should she ? This morning you both adhere to your assertions. 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 57 

Very well. Now please don't think me impertinent — but I 
want a little information ! First, as to this Deeming — Have 
you known him long ? 

Mrs. HARBOROW^ Yes. 

Jessop. Many years ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Yes. 

Jessop. How many ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Sixteen I should think ! 

Jessop. That being the case, you know all about his 
movements. 

Mrs. Harborow. Not all. 

Jessop. A good deal ? 

Mrs. Harborow\ Oh, yes, a good deal. 

Jessop. You go about together ? 

Mrs. Harborow^ We have been. 

Jessop. In London ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Sometimes, 

Jessop. Where does he live ? 

Mrs. Harborow. His London address, do you mean? 

Jessop. I do. 

Mrs. Harborow. In St. James's Street, 

Jessop. What number ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Er 

Jessop. {sharply) The number ! 

Mrs. Harborow. I — I don't know. 

Jessop. How do you write then ? 

Mrs. Harborow. I don't write. 

Jessop, Don't write ! That's odd ! Perhaps you tele- 
graph ? 

Mrs, Harborow, No, 

Jessop, Singular — Do you know what he does for a living ? 

Mrs. Harborow. He's in the City. 

Jessop. Does he pick pockets openly, or call Rimself a 
financier ? 

Mrs. Harborow^ He has — interests. 

Jessop. And no capital ! Where does he carry on this 
interesting business ? ^ • 

Mrs. Harborow. I don't know. 

Jessop. Curious ! Love is blind, they say ; but in this 
case Cupid is apparently deaf as well. He can neither see 
nor hear ! What are his tastes ? 
Mrs. Harborow^ He is, or was,ver3^ musical. 
Jessop. Fond of music ! 
Mrs. Harborow. Yes. 



58 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Jessop. Do you mean the music one likes, or the mu.sic 
one ought to ? ' 

Mks. Harborow. The opera. 

Jessop. What opera ? 

Mrs. Harborow. "Faust," "Carmen,'' "Aida.'' 

Jessop. Ever go to the theatre ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Yes. 

Jessop. What theatre ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {vaguely) Oh ! not any particular 
theatre. 

Jessop. What pieces have you seen ? 

Mrs. Harborow. I've been abroad these last three 
months. 

Jessop. Perhaps you know the Paris theatres better ? 

Mrs. Harborow. I've often been. 

Jessop. With Mr. Deeming ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Sometimes. 

Jessop. Recently ? 

Mrs, Harborow. Not recently. 

Jessop. Long ago ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Yes. 

Jessop. Say— fifteen years ago ? 

Mrs. Harborow, Yes. 

Jessop, {ivith an inspiration) Paris — fifteen years ago ! 
I begin to see. 'One more question. Has Mr. Deeming ever 
passed under another name ? 

(Mrs. PIarborow turns and looks at Jessop i7nrplo7-ingly.) 
That'll do, Kate. Going back to last night. After this un- 
fortunate affair — what did you do, Ffolliot ? 

Ffolliot. I couldn't trust myself to speak. I left the 
room at once. 

Jessop. You and your wife occuj)}^ separate rooms, I 
iamey ? 

Ffolliot. Yes. 

Jessop. What did you do, Kate ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Joyce was dreadfully upset. I took 
her upstairs and put her to bed. 

Jessop. She made a statement — completely exonerating 
you ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {raising her voice a little) Ah ! she 
didn't realize what she said ! Afterwards when I was brushing 
my hair, she came into my room and said : " I can't under- 
stand v^'hy Geoffrey's so angry — what have I done that is so 
unpardonable ? " "^ 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 59 

Ffolliot. {coldly) I explained mj^ attitude very clearly 
this morning. 

Mrs. Harborow. I know — {her voice breaks a Utile) I 
was upstairs when she came back. I heard her step and then 
the door of her room opened and shut. After a minute or 
two I went to her. She lay on her bed, clasping her little 
dog in lier arms, sobbing her heart out — such a poor pathetic 
mite — and her small friend was trying to comfort her, licking 
the well-loved tear-stained cheeks, {pauses a moment, too 
moved to speak) 

(Jessop turns aivay. Ffolliot sets his teeth and looks on the 
ground.) 

{resuming) It is dreadful to see a young thing suffer. After- 
wards life pays us back for wha,t it owes us. But Joyce is 
hardly more than a child. Some of us have had to face the 
world, our backs to the wall-; but Joyce could never do it. 
The merry heart of her w^ould break, the cheeks would pale ! 
She was made for sunshine, to be sheltered from the cruel 
winds. If she were to leave this roof, Geoffrey^she would 
surely die. 

Jessop. {gravely) Thank you, Kate ! There are just 
one or two things I would like to say. in private. 

Mrs. Harborow. {icearily) Is there any need ? 

Jessop. In viev/ of our relations ! 

Mrs. Harborow. Oh ! that of course is over ! I — I quite 
understand. 

Jessop. {gravely) Still, if you could spare me a minute ? 

Mrs. Harborow. {ivearily) If you wish it. 

Jessop. {fo Ffolliot with a gesture) Perhaps, my dear 
Ffolliot 

Ffolliot. Certainty. 

{Erifs c.) 

(^-1 pause. Jessop sits r. of table c.) 

Mrs. Harborow. Harvey, before we go further and since 
"we are alone together, perhaps for the last time, I want to 
try and thank you for all your friendship has meant to me. 
Only another woman placed as I have been could appreciate 
the full value of a comradeship so loyal, so true, so chivalrous 
—asking nothing — giving all ! For a woman, such as I, 
is conddered fair game ! It doesn't matter at all, whether 
she be innccent or guilty ; at least she's a quarry worth the 



(30 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

hunting ! So that the rest of her life is a perpetual flitting 
hither and thither ; a packing and unpacking ; dreading 
to show a liking for any man lest her intentions might be 
misconstrued ; continually warding off a blow that seems 
inevitable ; in terror lest the most commonplace action may 
be magnified, and always crouching near her, pointing, 
whispering into willing ears, there lurks suspicion ! A scow- 
ling, muffled figure, with long, lean fingers — itching to twist 
themselves about her throat. I say all this, Harvey, that 
you may understand, that in bidding good-bye to you I am 
letting go a friend whose affection and devotion I have valued 
from the bottom of my heart, (pause) 

Jessop. {rises and speaks seriously) Kate, in one respect 
you've been a disappointment — a grave disappointment. 

Mrs. Harborow. (quietly) I'm sorry. 

Jessop. On me devolved just now the painful task of 
combining the offices of Senior Counsel for the Treasui'y, 
Lord Chief Justice, and twelve jurymen all rolled into one 
{goes up R.) 

Mrs. Harborow. (ivifh a sad little senile) You were very 
gentle. 

Jessop. (at head of table, ferociously) I may have looked 
gentle, but inside I was boiling ! Kate Harborow, it's my 
grievous duty, my imperative dutj^ to inform you — that you 
are the poorest liar that ever appeared before me. 

Mrs. Harborow. Harvey ! 

Jessop. You absolutely don't know the rudiments of the 
game. 

Mrs. Harborow. But— 

Jessop. You wouldn't deceive a child. 

Mrs. Harborow. You— 

Jessop. For a woman of intelligence — a brainy woman, 
a woman with imagination — it's pitiable ! (crosses down R.) 

Mrs. Harborow. (at last getting a ivord in) Harvey, do 
please say what you mean, (rises and moves doion c.) 

Jessop. Now just turn and look me straight' in the face. 

Mrs. Harborow. (does as bid) Well ? 

Jessop. (severely) Kate Harborow — (sudden change of 
tone) You're the best and dearest woman that ever stepped , 
and by Gad, if you don't marry me, I'll abduct you — I will ! 
I'll cart you off and marry you by force majeure which is 
French for special licence. 

Mrs. Harborow. (laughing and crying simultaneously) 
I — I don't know what it means — but it makes me very happy. 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 61 

Jessop. {icnderii/) Ah. Kate dear, I'll spend my life in 
trying to smooth away sad memories. 

Mrs. Harborow. {still laughing and crying) Oh ! Har- 
vey, 3"ou great, large-hearted dear ! 
Jessop. Say " husband " for luck ! 

Mrs. Harborow. {resting her head on his shoulder) Hus- 
band ! 
Jessop. Kate ! 

Mus. Harborow. {ivifh a change of tone) But Harvey, 
how did you — how did 3^ou guess ? 

Jessop. That 3^ou were screening Joyce ? Well, con- 
sidering that you gave yourself away at every turn, and that 
you couldn't parry a single one of my rapier thrusts— it's 
not altogether surprising, is it ? 

Mrs. Harborow. Harvey, do be serious. 

Jessop. Yes, mum ! Joyce had evidently got herself 
into a fix, and you helped her out. Perfeotly innocent doubt- 
less—but she ought to be smacked ! 

I\Irs. Harborow. Poor Joyce, you wouldn't say that if 
you could see her now. {mov&s \^.) 

Jessop. Poor kid— No, I suppose not. 

Mrs. Harborow. You're fond of Joyce, too— you'll help 
me, Harvey ? . '^ 

Jessop. {walking away a step) It's compounding a 
felony. 

Mrs. Harborow. Do ! 

Jessop. {turns, holding out his hands and taking hers 
Of course, I will. 

Mrs. Harborow. Harvey-^oh clear ! I don't know 
how to tell you, and this is quite the wrong time and it's 
absurd at my age, but {ivith infinite tenderness) I wanted to 
say^I love you dear — love you with all my heart ! 

{He taices her in his arn'is very gently and holds her there.) 

{after a little pause) Harvey, I'm glad 3^ou didn't say any 
nonseiise, it would have hurt. 

Jessop. {with- deep earnestness) One doesn't laugh at 
sacred things. 

{Thz outside hell ririgs — they separate.) 

{decidedly) We must bring these two together somehow. 
Mrs. Harborow. What is your plan ? 
Jessop. Haven't a ghost of a notion. 

• {Enter Thompson c; she exits r.u.e.) 



02 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

My head is swollen out with one idea— there's no room for 
another. But there is one spot that always inspires nie. 
{gets cap from sofa) ' - -^ 

Mrs. Haeborow. Is there ? 

Jessop. There is. 

Mrs. Harborow. Where is it ? 

Jessop. On it grows a mystic herb, 

Mrs. Harborow. Its name ? 

Jessop. Coreopsis ! ■ 

{gives her his arm and they move up to l.u.e.) 

{Re-enter Thompson showing in LArRENCE Deeming r.u.e.) 

Thompson, (as she re-enters) I'll tell the master you 
are here, sir. 

{Enter Deeming r.u.e.) 
Deeming. Thank you. 

{E.vit Thompson c.) 

Deeming, {to Mrs. Harborow aw^ Jessop) Good morn- 
ing ! Glorious weather, isn't it ? ' 

(Mrs. Harborow and Jessop turn at exit and there is a 

moment's pause.) 
Anything the matter ? 

Jessop. {crossing to him) Mr. Deeming, mw I inquire 
if you admire the works of C'harles Dickens ? 

Deeming. No, I can't stand him ! 

Jessop. {pointedly) Exactly ! I always dit^trust a man 
who disapproves- of Charles Dickens ! 

{He turns, offers his arm to Mrs. Harborow and exeuiUMns. 
Harborow^ and Jessop l.u.e.) 

{At the same moment Ffolliot enters c. Deeming is looking 
after the departed pair umidering ivhat is amiss. He turns 
at Ffolliot's entrance.) 

Deeming. Good morning, Ffolliot I don't seem very 
popular, this morning. 

Ffolliot. {coldly) Indeed ! {crosses to icindotcs l.u.e. 
and closes them) 

Deeming. Feel cold ? 

Ffolliot. No. 

Deeming. Then why close tlie windows ? 

Ffolliot. One has to be careful. 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY 63 

Deeming. Of draughts ? 

Ffolliot. Of draughts, {crosses to writing taUe) 
Deeming, {throwing cap on sofa) Oh ! 
Ffolliot. {coldly) Won't you sit doAvn ? 
DEEMiNt!. I realize now why you shut the windows. 
Ffolliot. {turning) Do you ? 

Deeming. Yes — the atmosphere has grown rather frigid. 
{takes chair from r. of table, turns it round, and sits astride it) 
Ffolliot. Oh ! 
Deeming. Not to say glacial. 

Ffolliot. I wanted to talk to you on a matter of business, 
not to discuss the temperature. 

Deeming, {impudently) Well, please make haste, ov I 
shall be frozen to death. 

Ffolliot. {sits at writing table, takes out ke.y, and unlocks 
drawer) Before we finish our conversation, I fancy vou'U find 
the atmosphere quite warm enough. 

Deeming. Good — go ahead, {takes out cigarette case) 
Ffolliot. {unthdraivs the long ivhiti envelope, and lays it 
on ivriting-tahle) 

{A-<! Deeming ■notices it,'he displays by so?ne small action a 
slight uneasiness.) 

You will remember tlip.t I returned last night unexpectedly 
— inconveniently — at a late hour. 

Deeming. You vv^ould b;^ always welcome at any time. 
{tahes out match box) 

Ffolliot. I mentioned that I had missed my train, and 
had received a telegrajn -at the station. 

Deeming. A fairy tale, I presume ? {strikes match) 

Ffolliot. No, it happened to be true. 

Deeming. Then truth is stiaii;:^-r than fiction.- {lights 
cigarette) ^ 

Ffolliot. I had a reason for my journey — an- urgent one. 

Deeming. Well, one hardly travels to town by the mail 
train for fun. {throws aivay match) 

Ffolliot. Just so ! And I regret my absence the more, 
since it left my house undefended, at the mercy of any thief 
or blackguard who jnight be lurking near. 

Deeming. I presume that your doors j^ re supplied with 
the usual lock and key. 

Ff/3Lliot. Thieves can force an entrance. 

Deeming. Well, my dear sir, I should communicate with 
the police. 



64 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Ffolliot. I started to go to London last night, to be in 
time for an appointment this morning. 
• Deeming, {sarcastic ally) Very interesting. 

Ffolliot. My appointment was with Denton, Sons & 
Troubridge, a firm of stockbrokers — (pause) Do yon know 
. them ? 

Deeming. Perfectly ! Rather old-fashioned, but other- 
wise respectable. 

Ffolliot. The senior partner is a very old friend of mine. 

Deeming. Ah, that's a mistake — never do business with 
a friend. 

Ffolliot. That's the conclusion I've arrived at. 

Deeming; Excellent ! 

Ffolliot. Troubridge had received a power of attorney 
for the sale of £1,000 Victoria 3| per cent. Inscribed Stock. 

Deeming. It must have been an exciting moment for him. 

Ffolliot. The power of attorney purported to be signed 
by me. 

Deeming, (carelessly) Yes ? 

Ffolliot. But Toubridge was not satisfied with the 
signature. He knows my handwriting well. So he wrote 
to me asking if the transaction was all in order. I received 
his letter yesterday afternoon. I at once wired him to sus- 
pend all action till I had seen him in the morning. 

Deeming. Very wise. 

Ffolliot. In the meanwhile, however, he had posted 
the document to me, in order that I might verify it ! And 
the wire I received at the station was to tell me what he had 
done. 

Deeming. Well, anyway you saved your train fare. 

Ffolliot. (taking up envelope) I have the document 
here. I have examined the signature and I find it to be a 
forgery ! 

Deeming. Really ! 

Ffolliot. The person appointed to act on my behalf, 
that is to say, the person who would receive the proceeds 
of the sale is 

Deeming, (coolly) Yes ? 

Ffolliot. Yourself. 

Deeming. Some mistake evidently, 

Ffolliot. Hardly, I think. 

Deeming. Obviously some one has forged your sigijature 
and quite unknown to me, has inserted my name. 

Ffolliot. Why ? 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 65 

Deeming. I'm afraid these things are clone ! 

Ffolliot. Yes — but people don't forge documents for the 
benefit of others ! 

Deeming. Many things are done in the City that v/ould 
surprise you. 

Ffolliot. I dare sa}^ ! But there is one other point. 
Yoli yourself applied through Denton, Sons & Troubridge for 
the power of attorney — Why should you ? 

Deeming, {rises and puts back chair) Am I to. understand 
that you have the impertinence to accuse me ? 

Ffolliot. {vised) I take that liberty ! 

Deeming. I suppose you know the consequences of 
bringing a false charge of this description. 

Ffolliot. {crosses c.) I am under no apprehension, 
since what I state is true. 

Deeming. You've got to prove it. 

FFOLLiaT. I've enough evidence to justify an arrest, and 
my friend, lilr. Jessop, who is chairman of the Norchester 
Bench of magistrates, will, I know, sign a M^arrant. 

Deeming, (moves cloion r., with a change of tone) My 
dear Ffolliot, you are surely not serious ? 

Ffolliot. Perfectly. 

DEEivnNG. I thought you were joking. 

Ffolliot.' {grimly) I'm not considered a very jocular 
person, {crosses i. and deposits jjower of aitornen on ivriting 
table. ) 

Deeming, (r. ) Between old friends like us, this is absurd. 

Ffolliot. Absurd is not the tei^m I would use. 

Deeming, {crosses l.c.) You've trusted me with your 
business time and again. 

Ffolliot. I have. 

Deeming. Have you ever found me a penny short ? 

Ffolliot. No. 

Deeming. I advised 3-ou to buy Alaska C4old Shares — and 
didn't you make a handsome profit ? 

Ffolliot. I did. t 

Deeming. Of course you did — some hundreds, wasn' 
it ? 

Ffolliot. Well ? 

Deeming. I've been in and out of this house — almost 
like one of the family ! 

Ffolliot. {sternly) I remember. 

Deeming. Do you suppose I should run the risk of losing 
a friendship such as yours, for a paltry thousand pounds ! 



66 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

The thing's out of the question — Besides, if I'd wanted the 
money, couldn't I have borrowed it ? 

Ffolliot. You might have ; but not from" me, as you 
knew very well. 

Deeming, {crosses l.c.) A man v,ith a house in the 
country and chambers in St. James's is surely good for a 
thou. ? 

Ffolliot. {.quietly) Not inevitably. 

Deeming. Look here, Ffolliot — this — this means prison. 
. . . {shivers) prison ! {leans against table) 

Ffolliot. There's no doubt whatever about it. 

Deeming. And that's death — worse than death. 

Ffolliot. {sits coldly) They make it, I believe, cis agree- 
able as possible nowadays. 

Deeming. You're hard, Ffolliot— my God, you're hard 
as nails ! 

Ffolliot. I'm just. 

Deeming. If you were to tear the signature oJff that 
{points) — there'd be an end to the whole matter. Won't 
you — won't you ? 

Ffolliot. {hard) Do you find the atmosphere growing a 
little warmer ? 

Deeming. Doors clanging to behind you — picking rope 
that breaks your nails — picking till your fingers run with 
blood and your heart is bursting — and afterv/ards — when you 
come out — self-respect gone, money gone, friends gone — 
Justice ! Hell, you mean — that's what your justice 
is. 

Ffolliot. You should have thought of that before. 

Deeming. Rather like scolding a child, when it falls 
down. 

Ffolliot. I'm afraid I don't feel in the least sympathetic. 

Deeming. You've got a heart of stone. 

Ffolliot. You've tried bluff, you've tried persuasion, 
j^ou've tried pathos, neither of the three seemed to me to 
ring true, but even if they had, my attitude would be just 
the same. 

Deeming, What are you made of, I wonder ! {crosses 
room R.) 

Ffolliot. You shall hear ! I have been studiously 
careful to keep myself in check. .. Listening just now to your 
insolent bravado, I was hard put to it, to keep my hands off 
you ; but I let you be. You now seem to imagine tho,t I 
should melt with compassion. I'm afraid that is too much 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 07 

to expect. I regard you r/j a pariicularly choice blackguard, 
ill addition to being a forger and a thief. 

Deeming, [insolently) Anything else ? 

Ffolliot. Probably ! You gain my confidence, you get 
to know of my investments, and you try to rob me of a 
thousand pounds. Further you carry on an intrigue in the 
very home, where you have always received the utmost 
kindness .and hospitality. 

Deeming. Intrigue, you say ? 

Ffolliot. Yes. 

Deeming. That's a lie. 

Ffolliot. You came here last night. 

Deeming, {loiih savage satisfaction) Yes, you're right 
—I did. And why not ? Since I came at the invitcation of — 
your wife ! 

Ffolliot. {loith a , movement) You homid ! you dare 
say t hat — you blackguard ! [takes him hy the throat an d shakes 
him like a rat) Y'ou mean, cowardly, low-down ruffian ! 
[throw3 him from him, and loipes his hands on his handkerchief) 
But you're not worth breaking — why should I soil my hands ! 

Deeming, [gasping on sofa) I'll pay you out for this 
my fine dignified gentleman. 

Ffolliot- [quite cool again) I'm not at all alarmed. 
Men of your type are sc-Jdom dangerous, except to women. 

Deeming, [rises) We shall see. 

Ffolliot. Now I'm going to give you two alternatives. 
The first is that you come with me to Norchester, where I 
hand vou over to the police- 

Deeming. That's tempting ! What's the other ? 

Ffolliot. That you put a pistol to your head. 

Deeming. You're doing that ! 

Ffolliot. Take* your choice [moves to writing table 
and sits down) 

Deeming, {moving rx',.) You're very generous. 

Ffolliot. And you'd best decide quickly, [pause) 

Deeming. All right — I've made my choice. I shoot my- 
self ! hut—1 shoot you first, [he ivhips- out a revolver from his 
hip pocket and covers Ffolliot) If you atir, or call out, I fire. 

Ffolliot. [quietly) Don't be foolish— put that down. 

Deeming. You think I'm bluffing ? 

Ffolliot. Yes. 

Deeming. Then you're wrong. ^ _ 

Ffolliot. I've only to shout and Jessop, who s m the 
garden, will run to my assistance. 



68 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Deeming. I know. 

Ffolliot. Tlioii your throat is moonsliinc. 

Deeming. I don't go to prison ! Not under any circum- 
stances wiiatsoevcr — that's flat, 

Feolliot. It rests with you ! 

Deeming. In that case — I finish. 

Ffolliot. It's not for me to suggest. 

Deeming. But understand! I shoot you first! The 
end is the same for me, whatever happens, but I shall have 
the satisfaction of knowing that tliore's one cold-blooded 
prig the less in the world, and that poor little Jo3'Ce will 
be free ! 

Ffolliot. {coolly) What is to be the end of this, masr 
querade ? 

Deeming. The end will be the same for both of us 
unless 



Ffolliot. Well ? Wliat are your terms ? 

Deeming. Very easy ones, considering that your life 
depends on the ])ressure of a trigger. 

Ffolliot. What are they ? 

Deeming. That you destroy the attestation to that power 
of attorney. 

Ffolliot. What ? 

Deeminc!. Tear off the signature, and those of the attest- 
ing witnesses and burn the severed portion, 

Ffolliot. Are you serious ? « 

Deeming. Quite. 

Ffolliot. Then I decline, 

Deeming, Failing that, we depart together to a place, 
where such documents are of no pairicular conserpience. 
, Ffolliot. I decline. 

Deeming, I've got you hke a rat in a trap; you've not 
the faintest earthly chance and wliat is the alternative-? 
Just to tear off a piece of paper, and forego a very poor 
revenge ! You'll do it . 

Ffolliot. No ! 

Deeming. It's that or death ! 

Ffolliot, {half to himself, a t]i;>rgld (Jcnrnrng on his miivd) 
Well, there are worse things ! 

Deeming. Listen — it wants two minutes to ten by that 
clock on the mantelpiece. It's a chiming clock. If by the 
'ast stroke of ten you've not torn off the signature, I first 
put a bullet through your head and then through mine ! 
Don't imagine I'm bluffing ! I've reached the end of my 



t 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 69 

tether. It's neck or nothing ! ^^ly Hie has been a gamble — 
this is the final stake ! It's a bit of paper against two human 
lives. Think what you're about ! Consider the tremendous 
issues ! Each tick of the clock brings you nearer ! 
{Slowly and distinctly the clock chimes one.) 
Now, is it to be life or death ? 

{The clock chimes on. On the fourth stroke Ffolliot turns 
towards Deeming, a strange expression of exaltation in his 
eyes. There is no suggestion of fear or resentment, hid rather 
the look of a man tvho is presented with the key to an enigma 
and \'jelcomes the solution of his doUhts and difficidties . On 
Deeming the effect of this attitude is curious. He had ex- 
pected impotent anger, a furious outburst, derision, incredu- 
lity ; hut here is something uncanny. It unnerves him — it 
seems to paralyse him. He lowers his pistol — there is a 
momenfs pause.) 

Ffolliot. {evenly and quietly) Why don't you shoot ? 
Deeming, {staring at him and speaking in a low, hoarse 
voice) My God ! I can't — I can't ! 
Ffolliot. It's your life or mine— Why do you hesitate ? 
Deeming. I meant to kill you right enough — I lost my 
head — I saw red ! If you'd cursed or sprung at me I'd have 
pulled the trigger, 
Ffolliot. {quietly) Well— why didn't you ? 
Deeming, (bending forwards and hissing the words out) 
Because j^ou wanted me to kill you ! — asked for it — asked for 
it, as plain as if'you'd spoken— to have looked like that you 
must have been through hell ! 

Ffolliot. {smiling grimly) Aren't we anticipating 
rather ? 

Deeming. Ah ! now you're on your guard again ! But 
for a second I saw something {shudders and puts away his 
pistol) I want to forget. 

Ffolliot. From a man like yourself one naturally ex- 
pects a trick or a bkiff ; but I certainly think you meant to 
kill me— and for refraining from that laudable intention I 
suppose I ought to be grateful. Yet, I wonder— to die is so 
extremely simple. It is to live that calls for the highest 
form of courage. However, you seem to possess some quality 
of decency that I hadn't suspected. After all, as Mrs Har- 
borow says, there is always the Unknown Quantity. ( picks up 
the forged documenit) I'm inclined to give you another chance^ 
but on one condition only. 



70 THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Deeming. Well ? 

FroLLiOT,. I must know the truth about last night. 

Deeming. What am I to say ? 

FroLLiOT. Did you come here to see Mrs. Harborow ? 

Deeming. No ! 

Ffolliot. You came then to see my wife ? (pause) 
You must answer^yes or no. 

Deeming. Yes. 

[There is a pause — the two men look at each other.) 
FroLLiOT. What is she to you, and what are you to her ? 
Deeming. There has never been anything between us but 
the most innocent and harmless friendship. I swear that 
on my — perhaps I have no right to speak of honour. I 
think she was sorry to lose her playmate — she asked me to 
come back and say good-bye. It was a folly if you like. 
But had we been guilty, should we have taken the risk ? We 
were constantly together — why meet here at midnight ? 
It was obviously the whim of a child ; and whatever blame 
there is, is mine alone. I ought not to have come {earnestly) 
Ffolliot — she loves you — if you realized how much — you 
couldn't doubt her ! For her, there's no other man in the 
world, and that's the real and simple truth. 

Ffolliot. {in a low tone) I wish to believe it— with 
all my soul. 

Deeming. Then look into her eyes — and you will find 
your answer. 
(Ffolliot Js silent — Deeming, after a ^nomenfs pause, crosses 

to sofa, jncks up his cap and moves up to door r.u.e.) 
Ffolliot, a love such as hers is the most beautiful and fragrant 
thing a man can know. Be v/ise ! Don't brush away the 
bloom ! Remember, too, that blackguards sometimes forget 
to be blackguards, and that's the final word of a w^orthless 
scamp who shouldered his pack, and disappeared into the 
summer haze ! 

{E.cits R.U.E.) 
(After Demming's exit Ffolliot takes up the forged document, 

considers, a.yid then locks it away in a dratver. He then 

rests his head on his hands in an attitude of dejection.) 
.(Mrs. Harborow now re-enters l.u.e., foUoived by Jessop. 

The two hare evidently been in considtation. She glances at 

Ffolliot a7id indicates The door c. toith a whispered injunc- 
tion. Jessop nods and exits — Mrs. Harborow comes doivn 

and touches Ffolliot on the shoidder.) 



THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 71 

Mrs. Hareorow. Has he gone ? 
_ Ffolliot. Yes — {pause) Kate, before he went he told 

me about last night — I know now that what you said you 

said to shelter Joyce {tvWi feeling) It was veiy generous of 
you, Kate. 

Mrs. Harborow. {gently) I couldn't allow Joyce to 
suffer for a thoughtless folly. 

Ffolliot. Kate, there's something I want to try and say. 
{he rises and paces the room) I know very little of women. 
They haven't come my way. With men I've always ex- 
pected, and exacted certain things. I've been called a hard 
man ; but usually I think a just one. I see now that I'd 
no right to apply this rule of life to Joyce. It was too rigid, 
too imbending. Ours has been a tragedy in its small way. A 
hundred times I've tried to open my heart to her, and then 
I've been afraid — afraid that she might laugh, and so I've 
gone back to my shell again. Ye gods, the mockery of it ! 
Then I deliberately tried to put her out of my life, but my 
love was stronger than myself. I know noAV, that without 
her, I've no wish to live, {sits l. of taUe c. staring straight 

in front of liirn) That came home to me very forcibly just 

now. It lias cost me something to say this — I'm not given 

to making confidenees — but you know us both so well can 

anything be done ? Can I win her back ? — or is it too late ? 

Mrs. Harborow. She has suffered — you both have 
suffered — and that is the crowning tragedy of all. We hurt 
the thing we love the most ! C4eoffrey, you have lost the 
love of a child : she loves you now through tears. She loves 
you — as a vroman. 

Ffolliot. {a new soft note in h's voice) Joyce — little 
Joj'ce. 

{The door opzns c. at hack, admitting Joyce, folloioed by Jessop. 
Mrs. Harborow hears them enter and turning, moves swiftly 
to Joyce, and lohispers to her. Joyce rims fonvard and 
kneels hy Ffolliot. He looks into her eyes and then loithout 
a ivord draw 3 her to him ivith infinite ienderness) 

(Mrs. Harborow and Jessop creep softly from the room, as the 
curtain falh.) 

Curtain: 



Printed by Butler & Tanr.sr Fro.ne and Lo,i 



Continued from second page of coVer. 

SCENERY. 

Our ttock of scenery consists of 

The Oak Chamber Set. 

This scene will be found suitable for the purpose of an 
ordinary interior in nearly all plays requiring a room 
which is not representing a drawing-room, kitchen, or a 
very poverty-stricken t3rpe of room. The kind of 
^ furniture used in it will naturally do much to indicate the 
status of the people inhabiting 

The Drawing-room Chamber. 

This scene has been prepared on exactly the same 
lines as the oak chamber, and with the same object in 
view — the increase in both height and width according 
to requirement. 

Both Large and Small Garden Scenes 
Both Large and Small Wood Scenes 

A Drop Scene 

Puffed Satin Paper for Proscenium 

Fireplaces 

House-piece for Street Scene 

Interior Window and Interior Doors 

FULLY ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE 

Sent ftraUs on BppUcadon to SAMUBL FRENCH, Ltd., 24 

Southamoton Street, Stnuul, London ; or 28 West SSth Street, 

New York Qty, U.SA. 



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